WORDS I NEVER SAID
by SawyerDonovan
Summary: "Count the days, damn you, and accept that it doesn't add up. And by then it will be too late. For you, for me, for what we could have been." She was the only thing that he loved, the only one who had the power to destroy him. He believed she betrayed him and she ran to protect the life she sheltered. Now she's back and the past love & betrayal cannot be denied. ERICxTRIS AU
1. SOMEDAY

****NOTE:**** This story will take place in modern day and starts off when our characters are all "innocent" in highschool. And no more new stories until I finish what I have written!

 ** **DISCLAIMER:**** I do not own Divergent, the series, movies or anything such and I do not own the music or lyrics of Britney Spears. Characters will look like they do in the movie series.

 **"** ** **Someday you will breathe  
And you'll finally see  
See it all in your baby"****

\- Britney Spears, ****SOMEDAY****

PROLOGUE  
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS  
2013

"Whore."

"Slut."

"Treacherous bitch."

The taunts were sometimes said softly, in hushed whispers, among those who watched, judged her as she passed while others hissed the disgusted words directly into her ear, harshly pushing her against the wall.

She would continue down the hallway, head held high, her back straight, weaving in and out of the passing students, tightly gripping the leather strap of her satchel until her fingers turned a pasty white, the taunts and jeers swirling in her mind.

There was never retaliation, never a word uttered in her defense, she simply was, she existed.

She was marked with a color as vivid as a scarlet letter, branded as cheating ex-girlfriend to the golden boy of Dauntless High.

One hand would rest on the nine month swell, protecting the gentle kicking that caused her golden skin to glow, her honey blonde strands tumbling past her shoulders in a shimmering coil, her dark eyes radiating an inner peace that caused many to pause and stare.

Each moment passed with her being turned inside out by her once so-called friends for a sin she did not commit.

She knew that when her daughter was born she would have his eyes.

A striking, piercing, clear blue, ringed with silver, swirling with emotion, and he would not be able to deny the truth.

Little did Eric Coulter understand that it would be too late, that his opportunity of redemption will have passed.

Tris Prior would already be gone.

 **"** ** **No moment will be more true  
Than the moment I look at you"****


	2. EVERYTIME

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Divergent, the series, movies or anything such and I do not own the music or lyrics of Britney Spears. Characters will look like they do in the movie series.

" **Notice me  
Take my hand  
Why are we strangers when  
Our love is strong  
Why carry on without me?**

 **Everytime I try to fly  
I fall without my wings  
I feel so small"**

\- Britney Spears, **EVERYTIME**

 **DAUNTLESS ACADEMY  
SPRING 2013  
TRIS PRIOR**

Effortlessly she weaved through the crowded hallways of Dauntless Academy, maneuvering past accidental elbow jabs and avoiding attempted trips to loudly taunted jeers. She rolled her shoulders as weariness washed over her, her petite body heavily weighed down by her eight-month pregnancy, believing it was entirely to early for a Wednesday morning.

Not only did it seem that she was constantly sick, spotting blood, but sleep had become a thing of her distant past, allowing only nightmares to remain.

Often she would wake in a rush, feeling clammy, nauseous, her body rigid. She would reach out almost automatically, searching for the comfort of living warmth next to her in bed. Something to fill the blackness of her universe, a place of horrible expanding emptiness where the sun should have been.

Only to touch cold sheets, the reminder of what she had lost.

Many found it hard to believe that she was the once-glorified queen of Dauntless Academy with a voice of a whiskey lullaby, a sensual promise.

And in one pep rally she had been branded as Dauntless Academy's finest actress.

Denounced, titled a cheater in front of her entire school, she had begged, pleaded on her knees for him to have faith in what she told him, in her, but he had refused. He believed what he knew to be true.

She drifted past her fellow students, almost a shadow, a former flame to the legendary intellectual beauty that had entered the rigidly constructed barriers, shattering the status quo and capturing the heart of the basketball captain at the beginning of her junior year.

As each day passed it slowly became an endurance of will for Tris Prior to survive between the hours of eight-thirty until three, to turn a deaf ear and cold shoulder to the rumors, jokes and anger that cloaked her senior class.

Tris knew of the bets placed against her. Would her baby have Eric Coulter's eyes or would it have Albert's nose? Would this child damn her or finally prove her innocence?

Tris knew the simple truth.

Eric Coulter was the father.

She had never touched Al, she never would, the mere thought sickened her.

No matter the wild tales he spun or how damning the evidence may be, Eric was the only one she had allowed into her body.

At first she had believed that he would call her, hold her, trust her, love her as she did him. Deep inside her numbness a faint echo of anger and grief trembled, then faded. Tears burned behind her eyes.

In the agony of hope she waited.

For nothing.

He never came, he never called. Without that faith, she knew she had nothing.

She would have his baby and that child would have blue eyes like their father.

And then he would know.

Eric had led the torment, the ringleader on his quest for redemption against the bitch that had broke his soul.

It was a game to belittle her at every opportunity, attempt to make her miserable, but never threatening, never harming her baby, according to Eric's rules. She would never allow any of them the satisfaction of knowing what it cost her not to run, to escape to another school, to not face a constant brigade of disgust coming even from the faculty on behalf of the golden boy.

Her parents had screamed and her brother had been disappointed, demanding to know how her dreams could be accomplished now. How could she study to be doctor with a child on her hip, how her world forever changes.

Tris simply smiled, assuring her mother that her dreams had already altered beyond her recognition. This little of ember of hope burning inside her, what kept her from breaking apart when she felt as if she could bend no longer, was now her dream as Eric had once been.

He had always understood everything about her except the one thing that had matter.

She had loved him.

Her Eric was dead, for that she was certain.

* * *

 **DAUNTLESS ACADEMY  
SPRING 2013  
ERIC COULTER  
**

Eric Coulter silently examined Tris Prior, his whole body tightening. He couldn't breath. Couldn't move. Couldn't think.

She stood next to her locker, rummaging through her various books, her coil of honey blonde hair tumbling past her shoulders in a silky array of curls and waves, her delicately built frame clothed in a light grey sundress, her child swelling against the fabric.

She was still beautiful, there was no denying that. But the sparkle, the sass that reflected in her amber eyes seemed to diminish with each passing day. However, something different would appear when she would rest her hand on the swell of her stomach.

Something gentle and mysterious. Elusive.

Something that had once been his until he caught her.

He had been Tris's first, but that never meant he would be the last.

Al had broken, admitting to an ongoing affair with Tris, her blackmailing him into the act with the threat of rape and expulsion looming over him if he didn't comply. She had enjoyed the game, apparently, fucking the basketball captain's friend behind his back, enjoying his unknown humiliation.

But Tris denied Al's accusation and Eric had refused to listen to her so-called proof.

Rage came, a freezing kind that numbed the scalding pain of her betrayal. Rage made it possible to breathe, to move, to think.

To exist without her.

Hell, he knew that others wanted to ask her out, pregnant or not, but he had put a stop to that shit real quick. He may not want her as his but he would be damned if she would belong to anyone else.

As if she could sense his intense scrutiny, Tris raised her head, her mouth drawn in a flat line as she evenly met blue.

He said nothing. She didn't deserve his words.

He repeated the mantra through his mind, warning himself that she did not deserve this much of his attention, his time. The thoughts comforted until he noticed her features softening as she stared at him, her skin glowing a dusky gold, a slight smile playing across her lips.

Was she laughing at him?

"What the fuck are you smiling about?" Eric hissed, stalking across the hallway, angered at the content satisfaction of her expression.

"She's awake. She won't stop kicking." Impulsively she reached out, pressing his fingers against the firmness of her stomach, her hands holding his as their child gently moved beneath his palms for the first time. She wouldn't question her actions, she needed him to understand what they had created. "Feel."

Eric felt his breath catch in his throat at the feeling of her fingers sliding over his, their first contact in over seven months, warmth spreading through the chill.

"She? You're having a girl?" his voice was hoarse as Tris's daughter kicked, the force causing his hand to slightly rise. He barely contained a startled chuckle at Tris's child's strength.

She would be strong like her mother.

"Your daughter. She knows your voice."

Eric swallowed harshly and for a moment wished that it could be true. But he had seen with his own eyes her in bed with Al, naked, his body curved about hers, condom wrappers littering the floor. She was a liar, she had used him. She needed to pay.

"Not mine." He snatched his hands back as if burned. "Maybe if your lucky your little bastard will be as big as slut as her mother one day. Follow in your footsteps, make you proud."

She slapped him, the sound sharp in the hallway. It happened before she realized she was going to do it. She had never felt such blind rage before and she had put all her strength in the blow. Part of her was aghast that she had done such a thing, but another more primitive part was dismayed that she had done so little damage. The blow whipped his head around, but he remained solidly on his feet.

She was white and trembling with anger, her eyes like amber fire. She had put up with months of torment from fellow students calling her a magnitude of slanders, but none had been directed towards her child.

Eric calling their daughter worthless trash was a fact she refused to simply accept.

She went up on tiptoe to thrust her face close to his.

"Don't you ever call my baby a bastard again." The words were even and said through clenched teeth. She looked ready to kill him, or die trying. "You fucking know she is yours."

Desire hit him in the gut.

This was his Tris. Angry curls and spitfire.

He's seen Tris bravely face down bitchy cheerleaders, be gentle with who she tutored, wild and passionate when he made love to her, an ice queen distaining to even look at him, but this was new, this was a tigress ready to tear him to pieces in order to protect her offspring. Lust fogged his brain as he reached for her, but paused when he realized that student body had paused, observing their interaction with unconcealed interest.

"It's good act, I'll give you that. Trembling lips, glossy eyes, almost makes me believe you. I know what I saw, kitty bitch."

"Then your blind."

Eric barely contained the growl forming in his throat at her accusation.

"No," he disagreed. "I saw all too clearly what you really are. Its amazing what you can believe to be true when you love someone."

"Have you thought of the possibility that baby is yours?" Tris asked, tilting her head as she was seeing him for the first time. "What are you going to do when she has your eyes? What are you going to do when it's too late?"

The possibility teased him, taunted him with all that he wanted to believe, all that he hungered to believe, with an intensity that left him startled.

"Eric, what are you doing with this waste of time?" Tobias Eaton's interruption saved Eric from having to answer her question and for once he was happy for his friend known as Four's horrid timing. "She still claiming the baby is yours?"

Tris tightly crossed her arms as she stared at her former lover and the boy who had treated as his little sister. It seemed like a different life. That they had laughed, lived until the day that had changed her life far more than a pink line on a white stick.

Fuck Al, he had ruined her life for no cause. He didn't want her. He never had.

"Actress, whore, it doesn't matter," Eric's voice was soft, cold. "Nothing to say in your defense even now?"

"Thank you for my child, even it was an unwilling gift." Tris said softly, suddenly weary.

She was done with this scene. If Eric didn't believe in her than so be it. She would no longer force the issue. She wasn't the one who would lose.

"Very good, the voice, it could make a stone weep." Eric snapped as Tris attempted to move past him, but stopped her words chilled.

"One day you're going to wake up and this illusion will be gone." She let out a soft giggle at the thought. The leader needed to be brought down a few notches. "There will no cheerleaders, no one exulting your name. You'll be alone. A sad little boy with only a bruised ego for comfort. You'll be laughable."

Violence and rage burned blankly in depths of his tourmaline eyes. His body rippled with involuntary motion, adrenaline pumping, muscles tensed.

Before Eric understood his actions he shoved her shoulders until she stumbled backwards, tripping over Four's extended foot, colliding with the lockers. She cried out as her stomach connected against the metal and then the cold tile of the floor. Pain shot through her, clenching cramps.

"That's were you belong," Eric snarled leaning close to her, ignoring the guilt twisting through his body. "On her knees like a good slut."

He and Four walked away, laughing, ignoring the fact Tris laid on the floor, curled in a tiny ball, whimpering against the darkness threatening her.

She was a bitch, Eric thought. It had to be true, it was the only way he could survive.

* * *

 **DAUNTLESS ACADEMY  
SPRING 2013  
ERIC COULTER**

Eric mindlessly tapped his pencil against his desk, ignoring morning announcements, as he stared at Tris's empty desk. She wasn't in homeroom.

She was fine, Eric assured himself. He hadn't pushed her that hard, she was in the bathroom. Pregnant women were always in the bathroom…right?

His self-comforting thoughts were interrupted as Four burst into the room, returning from his restroom trip, his eyes wild as they sought out Eric's.

"Bleeding…she's bleeding…" he stuttered frantically motioning for Eric. "She…oh god…"

Fear slid cool claws over Eric's skin, stirring the hair at his nape as he followed Four through the door, praying what he said was a mistake.

Tris cringed on the floor, gripping her abdomen as another pain tore through her lower body and shimmied down her thighs. When it was over, she panted laboriously, the ache in her back intensifying, twisting her womb like angry fists.

She shivered convulsively, chilled, perspiration glazing her skin, her fingers shaking as she attempted to dial 9-1-1.

Her daughter was going to die.

"Tris!" she heard Eric's voice through the numbing fog of her mind, felt his body pressing against her as he dropped to his knees, demanding for the towels the running school nurse brought as a crowd began to develop in the hallway. "Baby, calm down. I'm here, it's okay I'm here."

His words brought her no comfort only terror for what he could do now.

Eric tried to blank out the scene he was witnessing.

She was on the ground where he had left her, red staining the front of her dress, blood pooling around her lower body.

She was going to lose the baby.

He had done this.

"No!" her voice was hoarse as she shrieked the words, her arms protectively wrapping around her stomach as she shrank back. "Don't touch me. Please! Leave me alone!"

He reached out, his hands trembling as he took the cell phone, completing the number.

The nurse knelt in front of Tris, attempting to place the towel between her thighs, but she refused to open her legs.

"Baby, we need to contain the bleeding, okay?" Eric attempted to keep his voice soothing. "You need to open your legs."

"I can't. She'll come out don't you understand? It's to soon…she's not ready." Tris broke, tears streaming down her face, panic closing her throat and her legs weakly fell apart.

"She's fucking bleeding," Eric screamed as an emergency dispatcher answered the phone. "She's eight pregnant."

"Sir you need to remain calm. It is possible that the placenta detached."

"What the hell does that mean?" Eric demanded.

"It means that when the paramedics get there you need to tell them that every second counts, do you understand? She could bleed to death."

Eric shoved the cell phone at Four allowing him to complete the call. He gripped one of Tris's hands into his own, smoothing the hair back from her sticky forehead.

"You'll be fine." he whispered the assurance unable to tell if it was for her comfort or his own. "Our daughter is fine."

"Not yours." She hissed. "Never yours, not now. Mine."

Her lips were white as she compressed them, trying not to scream from the pain, her body shuddering.

Zeke Pedred pushed forward through the crowds of students gathering, bile rising in his throat as he saw the blood. The once white towels firmly pressed between her clenched thighs, trembling as Tris pushed against Eric demanding that he release her, that he only wanted to hurt her more. He analyzed the situation, immediately knowing what he had done, shame pouring through him.

"Eric," the captain's head up at his voice. "Stand down. She doesn't want you to touch her."

"But…I…"

"Tris, it's Zeke, its okay. I need you to breathe." Zeke's voice seemed to fade in her ears as he knelt down next to her, assuming Eric's place. "I need you to look at me."

"I hurt…my baby…please, Jack? My baby…" she whimpered, her words weakening.

What would become of her if her daughter died almost by the hand of her father.

Not father, she thought fiercely. Fucking sperm donor.

Eric felt as if he were screaming when Tris's eyes rolled back into her head and he quickly took the spot across from Zeke, ignoring his orders.

"Tris, baby, stay with me. Look me in the eyes." his voice broke. He touched her face with unsteady fingers as she arched and cried out again from the force of the pain.

"Where the hell is the ambulance?" he cursed.

The faint sound of sirens was barely audible as students ran to direct the paramedics. Tris was barely conscious at the ambulance attendants worked to stem the bleeding.

"Who's coming?"

"I…" Eric voice was interrupted as Zeke snapped.

"I am."

"Coach."

"Come nowhere near her? Do you understand, boy? Stay the fuck away. You've done enough to this girl. It's gone on too long." Zeke turned to look at the surrounding students, most pale in horror, others silently crying. "Are you happy? All of you? You finally got what you wanted."

He leaned down, pushing his face close to Eric's, whispering. "Are you pleased, Eric? She could die. You finally win. She could die for being stupid enough to love you."

Students stood silently watching as their king remained in his kneeling position, his body taunt, his hands clenching uselessly on his thighs, his chest heaving as he attempted to contain his emotion, his head bowed, staring at the blood covered floor.

He had done this.

She could die, because of him.

And if she did live she would hate him.

He didn't know which was more damning.

The despair that lay beneath anger and pain lapped at his will. The voices cutting him until he silently bled, hearing his own words with a kind of numb horror.

"Eric…" Four's voice was barely above a whisper, but it was the only incentive he needed as he exploded into motion. His fists collided repeatedly against the lockers, his knuckles, tearing, bleeding as he took out his vicious rage on himself.

"Who could have done this?" Marlene's whispered the thoughts of her many surrounding peers as Eric's answer echoed through the hallway.

"I did."

 **"I make believe**  
 **That you are here**  
 **It's the only way**  
 **I see clear**

 **What have I done"**


	3. GUILTY

_Thank you for your reviews! Don't lose hope on Eric...he will hopefully be redeemable!_

 **DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Divergent, the series, movies or anything such and I do not own the music or lyrics of Britney Spears. Characters will look like they do in the movie series.

" **I have no reason to lie  
I told you a thousand times  
I needed you by my side, but you were nowhere to be found  
but you pushed your luck  
now it's all messed up  
but you went too far when you broke my heart"**

BRITNEY SPEARS, GUILTY

 **FOUR'S RESIDENCE**  
 **WINTER 2012**  
 **11:36 P.M.**

"Please listen to me," she begged wildly, grasping his forearms tightly, desperate for him to understand. "Don't do this to us!"

Eric jerked his arms loose, and she crumpled to the thick carpet, her slim shoulders racked with deep, choking sobs.

"I love you, why can't you see that?" she wept, dangerously tittering on the verge of becoming hysterical. "Why won't you listen to me? Why? I'm begging you to just stop, to trust me."

"Get up!" he snapped. "You're a fucking cheating whore." Eric had already started for the bedroom door as Tris slowly straightened her clothing, bracing her palms against the floor as she pushed herself to her feet, her chest heaving with silently.

Eric wrenched open the door, motioning Four forward. "Get her out of here," he ordered coldly as she froze with paralyzed terror. "The very sight of her sickens me."

Her dark gaze widened as it met blue, silently imploring him one last time to listen, to trust her, to stop this from happening.

With his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his low-riding jeans, he returned her stare without flinching, his chiseled features taunt, his eyes reflecting blue ice, the muscle jerking in his clenched jaw betrayed his only display of emotion.

Four stepped forward, his hand closing around her elbow, but she jerked free as if his touch had burned her. "Don't touch me," she hissed. "Don't ever fucking touch me."

Without looking back, she walked through the door, wordlessly disappearing past the gathering crowd, her guilt clouding what remained behind.

* * *

FOUR'S RESIDENCE  
WINTER 2012  
12:10 A.M.

Eric winced as the bitter taste of beer filled his mouth, attempting to wipe his memory clean of any of the night's events. After he had hurt and degraded her, why had she wept at his feet? Tris's voice drifted through his mind, choked with racking sobs.

"I love you…only you…don't do this…"

Fury and pain blazed through him. He could never take her back, he forcefully reminded himself. He had seen her, caught the girl he would have sold his soul for, in bed with his best friend.

The image was forever burned into his memory.

Tris asleep, her golden body naked, glowing with Albert behind her, his arms securely wrapped around her waist. Her shock had been priceless, the material Academy Awards were given for and Al had turned pale, his eyes guilty, his expression sick with grief.

He had not denied his involvement.

A muscle convulsively moved in Eric's throat as he swallowed, opening another beer in the same movement.

He was going to forget. Forget her, forget he had ever loved her. She would pay.

"Eric?" Four's voice was hesitant weary of his best friend's understandable fury.

"Monday she'll regret her decision, she'll pay." Eric whispered, leaning back in his chair, his eyes wearily closing, his voice harsh. "She'll fucking learn that she shouldn't have played." His mouth stretched into a cruel smirk. "It will be an honor to watch the slut queen lose her throne."

* * *

 **THE HOSPITAL**  
 **SPRING 2013**  
 **7:55 P.M.**

When Tris woke she thought she was still caught in the violent impact of the fall, her body breaking against the tile, her life bleeding beneath her screaming silently in denial. Her heart frantically clutched, pounding before she realized the room was a pale yellow, clean and smooth.

An IV. Walls. A bed.

Quiet. Almost too quiet.

Her body ached everywhere. She shifted placing her left hand on her lower stomach, caressing the smooth surface, her skin pulling against the tightly drawn stitches.

With a small shudder she closed her eyes.

Where was her daughter? Was she alive? Had she survived the nightmare?

She shifted to ease her muscles, attempting reach for the nurses call button when she realized that a man's hand was wrapped around her right wrist.

Tris blinked, focused, then blinked again in disbelief at the sandy colored head, sleeping, his hand closed around her wrist, fingertips resting on her pulse for his reassurance.

With a small shudder she closed her eyes. In being close to Eric she had lost far too much, more than she thought she could lose and still survive.

Deliberately she eased her wrist from his grip.

The motion woke Eric; his eyes opened, blue, vivid, seeing through Tris to her very core. Something moved inside of her beneath his look, something very much like pain. She couldn't bear for him to see that.

"My baby?" she asked.

The two words.

Her world hinged on two words.

"She's alive."

That was all she needed, what she wanted.

"Where?" she choked. "Why isn't she here?"

"ICU," he hurried to explain as her eyes snapped back to his, quickly flaring in panicked fear. "For observation for the night. She was under to much stress, you hemorrhaged and she was taken via c-section.

She had her answer. Her baby was alive. She had survived.

She didn't need to say anything else, there was nothing she could say. Nothing else mattered.

More than an hour before, Zeke had left Tris's hospital room, and Eric had crept in, closely examining his ex-lover. Her face was pale and she cried out with pain, even with the sedative they had given her following the surgery.

He knew that this child was his, even though she had been intimate with Al, the days did not add together properly as she had once warned they wouldn't.

Even if this little girl had not been his, he knew he could have loved her, once the anguish of Tris's betrayal had vanished he could have moved past that fact.

Instead he had almost killed her, in his anger, in his choice for revenge.

He almost ended three lives in a single day. If Tris and her child had died, he knew he would have closely followed. There was no way he could have lived in a world without her, even if she had hated him for all he had done.

Fear condensed in Eric's stomach. The utter lack of animation in Tris made her a stranger to Eric. She was indifferent, past the point where his tender caress could soothe her pain. Her eyes didn't change as he touched her, she didn't focus on him, didn't even see him.

It was as if he wasn't there.

"I know you hate me," Eric said in a ragged voice. "I came back to you too late. I hurt you. Scream, call me names, I deserve all of them. Anything."

"Do you still believe Al?"

Eric knew he should lie, but he couldn't, not over this.

"Yes."

"Get out." Tris softly commanded.

"The nurses say she's beautiful," Eric continued, ignoring her order. "Blonde curls like her mother."

"Get out!" she screamed, her voice cracking in its fury, as she reared up into her, ignoring the pain ripping through her abdomen, knocking his hands away. "I want you gone, Eric. From my life. From hers. You got what you wanted. I fucking hate you!"

"Tris, no."

The words were hoarse, an involuntary cry of pain and regret. He could his own voice coldly suggesting she use her mouth on Al, proclaiming loudly to all who would listen that she was a cheating whore, that she had betrayed him.

That this was her punishment

With a hand that shook, he stroked the tangled coils of hair away from her still face, remembering her cheeks flushed with excitement, her eyes luminous as she watched him, touched him, laughed with him.

Memories like razors sliced through his fear until the truth finally bled out, unmistakable and unavoidable.

She had loved him.

"I hate you!" her words became a chant, burning him, growing louder in her agitation. "You wanted my baby dead! You tried to kill her."

Eric was aware of the flutter of activity surrounding the, the nurses and doctors rushing into the tiny room, attempting to soothe the rapidly hysterical mother and remove him from her presence.

"Sir, you need to leave."

Eric fought against them, ignoring their orders in his attempt to stay close, watching as they sedated her again, his hands pushing against theirs until his returning coach clamped down on the back of his neck, dragging him from the room.

"What the fuck is wrong with you," Zeke demanded, pressing him against the wall outside of her room, his fists clenched in the material of his shirt, chocking him. "What exactly did you not understand about not being here? That did not mean to sneak into her homeroom when you known I have gone to the cafeteria. She is not your life. You've made sure of that."

Eric forced himself to breathe past the pain he wouldn't reveal, the sound of her sobs echoing through his mind at her demands he leave. "I can fix this. The rumors, the harassing, I can make it stop. I can help," he pleaded. "I can support her. We can be a family."

"Too little, too late." Zeke's words taunted his son.

"Shit," Eric sighed, closing his eyes for an instant. "You're really enjoying this aren't you?"

"No. I'm telling you the truth. You hurt her, emotionally, physically. And now you want to be the man you should have been nine months ago. She deserves better than this, better than you," he pushed away from the boy he considered to be his son, wondering what had become of him. "Let her walk. Do you understand me? Let her find someone that will love her and love her well."

That was something Eric could not allow for.

* * *

 **THE HOSPITAL**  
 **SPRING 2013**  
 **3:37 P.M.**

Tris stared at her daughter in wonder, helplessly riveted, silently counting each finger and toe, gently caressing the honey blonde curls away from her tiny forehead, gazing into the blue that stared at her with utter trust.

She had her father's eyes.

A nurse had insisted that each baby was born with blue eyes, but Tris had disagreed, saying these were different. That they were his.

"He's still there," her mother, Natalie Prior, sighed as she entered her daughter's hospital room. "Still in that same plastic seat, waiting, not saying a damn word. It gave me pleasure to slap the taste out of his mouth, but he said nothing in his defense. Almost took the joy out of it."

He had been there each time she had awakened, ignoring his coach's orders, quietly sitting outside of her room as to not draw attention to himself in efforts to calm security. He said nothing, demanded nothing of her, not even to acknowledge the fact she wasn't alone.

Eric was simply there.

And now she didn't want him. His guilt, his love, nothing.

So she ignored him.

She didn't know what he wanted of her, she didn't want to know. His presence threatened the emotional numbness that protected her from being overwhelmed. She could cope with the rest of the world, but not Eric, not in any fashion.

"Is Four still there?" her once older "brother" had taken residence next to Eric for part of the morning.

"No, he finally left full of misery and regret." Natalie smiled softly as she watched her daughter shift her own child.

Tris caught her breath at the pins-and-needles sensation and then laughed, as her daughter latched onto her nipple, suckling, her tiny fist clenched against her breast.

"Does it hurt you? Do I need to ask the nurse for a bottle?"

"No," Tris said, grimacing. "It's just that uncomfortable feeling at first. And my stitches are pulling."

Natalie hesitated for a long moment before she spoke. "What do you plan to do? Are you going to press charges? You know that's your choice."

Tris drew her gaze from the six-pound bundle she would fight the world for and gave her mother a confident smile, one that indicated she had quietly come to a decision that she could accept and one day explain.

"I'm going to give him what he wanted all this time. His proof."

* * *

 **THE HOSPITAL**  
 **SPRING 2013**  
 **5:59 P.M.**

"Eric Coulter?"

"That's me." Eric wearily raised his head, his gritty eyes rapidly blinking against the harsh white light, focusing on the elderly gentleman standing in front of him clad in green scrubs and a white overcoat. After yesterday he learned that quietly sitting allowed him to observe from more than when he tried to force his way into Tris's room uninvited. "Is there a problem?"

"I'm Dr. Wayne. Ms. Prior has informed me that you are requesting a paternity test for her daughter."

"I don't want the test," he quickly denied, his confusion evident.

"Really, Ms. Prior said that you were very clear about establishing paternity."

" _This is your baby, Eric. Understand that? Add the days and it's yours."_

" _We'll see about that, won't we bitch. You deliver your lie and we'll see what the blood says. I would only believe my name printed next to your mistake in a test I agreed too."_

"No." It was the only word Eric could force past the fist squeezing his throat shut. He closed his eyes and reminded the horrifying sight of Tris bleeding in the hallway.

He didn't want the test that he had demanded on almost a daily basis. Not now.

"Sir, she can get a court order."

"Fuck court order! Fuck the test."

"Sir, please calm down…"

"Sir? Do I look like a fucking sir to you? I don't want the test run. What is so difficult to understand about that? It's as simple as I refuse."

"Eric," Tris's voice cut across his rant, calming his tantrum. He twirled around staring at his ex-girlfriend standing in the doorway of her hospital room, her frail frame clad in a purple robe, watching him, her expression determined. "Take the test."

"No," he denied, walking towards her, watching as she pulled her tired body steady. "I don't want too."

She had wanted to believe in her, to have faith that this child was his.

She had refused to do a test once the baby was born, insisting it would prove nothing if he couldn't see the truth.

And now she wanted to take that back.

She was giving into his demand and the very thought sickened him.

Had he finally broke her?

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." She muttered. "I'm giving you what you wanted remember. It may have not been the day she was born, but this is close enough."

"No."

"Why?" she demanded harshly. "Why can you believe me now? Is it because I bled for you? Finally?

"What do I have to say?" he demanded, grabbing her hips, pulling her close to his body, unable to stop touching her. "Tell me what I have to do to make you understand this. I am her father. I don't need paper to tell what I know is true."'

Was this a joke? To see how far he could push her before she completely lost her mind? This is what he wanted. This was his insistence, she wondered. With his eyes flashing fire, still managing to look arrogance and a booming voice as he without words admitted he was wrong.

"It's the very least you can do for me," she watched his inner struggle. "For her."

His eyes snapped up at the mention of his daughter.

"What's her name?" the questions leaked out of him with painful curiosity.

"Does she look me?" He sighed at refusal to answer him, scrubbing a hand across his face. "I'll do it. On one condition."

"And that would be?"

"I want five minutes with her. I want her name. I want her eye color. I want everything."

"Anastasia Quinn," Tris said softly, ignoring the sudden flare in his eyes. His daughter's name was a combination of their favorites. "And three minutes, I'll allow for three minutes."

* * *

 **THE HOSPITAL**  
 **SPRING 2013**  
 **7:22 P.M.**

"She has my eyes." He said softly, running a finger down her soft cheek, shifting her in his arms, so she rested against his heartbeat.

He fell in loved with Anastasia Quinn at that exact moment.

She blinked her large blue eyes rimmed with silver at him, her blonde hair resting against his shoulder, blowing bubbles, her tiny body curling into his.

And he had lost her, lost any right to call her as his.

Because he was scared.

"The test." Tris hovered behind him, her stomach clenching in fear as she watched him, scared as to what he could do to her world resting so trusting in his arms.

"Hey baby girl," Eric whispered. "I'm your daddy."

" **It's not like I did it on purpose  
The verdict is nothing"**


	4. THE GIRL IN THE MIRROR

**Thanks so for the reviews! The last chapter of being in high school before jumping four years ahead.**

 **DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Divergent, the series, movies or anything such and I do not own the music or lyrics of Britney Spears. Characters will look like they do in the movie series.

" **There's a girl in the mirror  
I wonder who she is  
Sometimes I think I know her  
Sometimes I really wish I did**

 **There's a story in her eyes  
Lullabies and goodbyes  
When she's looking back at me  
I can tell her heart is broken easily"**

\- BRITNEY SPEARS, THE GIRL IN THE MIRROR

 **ERIC COULTER'S HOME**  
 **SPRING 2013**  
 **SATURDAY - 4:37 P.M.**

" _Count the days, Eric, count them and you'll notice how they don't add properly. Not even to Al's claims." Tris hissed, thrusting her face close to his. "And by then it will be too late. For you. For me. For what we could have been._ "

Tris's words swirled though his mind as Eric stared at the plain white paper, the bold black letters mocking him with the confirmed results.

"99.99% certain that you are the father of the infant, Anastasia Quinn Prior."

Quinn was his child.

He was a father.

Eric released a shaky breath, forcing himself not to crumble the papers his father had placed in his hands at Tris's request. He hadn't wanted to see this.

He already believed she was his daughter.

He had known it when Tris had placed his hands across her stomach and he had felt the forceful movement.

If he would have listened, touched her months ago, there would never had been a doubt clouding his judgment who she belonged too. But he had stumbled and now he was going to pay.

"I'm guessing you're her father."

Eric cast a slight smile at Four before nodding his agreement.

"I'm a daddy."

Four bounced the basketball against the pavement, silently contemplating what this meant.

"Have you spoken with Tris?"

"Not since the test, her mother won't let me past the front door."

After the test he had walked back into the hospital room to find her watching Quinn as she slept. He had wanted to lift her in his arms and hug her to him, but she had been so pale, so stiff, withdrawing from him without actually moving.

"I don't want the results when they come," he had said. "Quinn is mine."

"I don't understand," Tris admitted shakily. "Why do you believe me now, when you didn't before? The evidence hasn't changed, has it?"

"No." It would take to long to explain his feelings to her, and she wasn't ready to hear about them anyway.

That's what he was doing, he admitted. Waiting for her. And he wasn't waiting for the rational conversation as he had tried to convince himself of that past couple weeks.

He was waiting to fight, to promise, to do whatever it took to put things right. To put Tris in his life once again.

As soon as he could forgive Tris for cheating. It was a slight issue that she needed to admit too and a fact he needed to fully accept.

"Can you honestly blame her though?" Eric sighed. "Jesus I almost killed her and her child and all I got was a slap on the wrist by the school board with a warning about how violence can solve no situation. How fucked up is that."

"They want to win the championship. They need their star captain in order to that." Four reasoned as Eric rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Maybe I shouldn't play, a self-induced punishment for my sins."

"And lose the potential scholarship to North Carolina?" Four felt the guilt heavily weighing on his shoulders. He'd had no qualms about turning his back on his self-proclaimed little sister, in tormenting her. What kind of monster had he become? "What would that help?"

"It wouldn't, but it would ease my conscience."

Each boy silently stood, knowing there was nothing left to say, nothing they could truly do.

"I lied."

Eric and Four's head snapped up, turned startled by the hoarsely announced interruption.

Albert stood behind them, dark stubble covering his jaw,, his hair messy as if he had run nervous fingers through it often, his eyes rimmed red.

"What did you say?" Eric demanded as tensed fear coiled, twisting through his gut, stepping closer to Al.

"I lied."

* * *

 **TRIS PRIOR'S RESIDENCE**  
 **SPRING 2013**  
 **SATURDAY - 4:37 P.M.**

 _"Hey baby girl…I'm your daddy."_

She would never forget that voice, so low and raspy.

Whimpering, gasping for breath, Tris's knees stiffened before giving away beneath her, curling into a tight little ball on the floor, she began to weep.

" _She has my eyes."_

She'd had everything under control, her emotions tightly constricted, she hadn't broken down once, but the simple sound of his voice, watching him fall in love with his daughter, had shattered her fragile defenses.

The wonderful, protective blankness had faded.

All the pain of betrayal, love scorned, burst in tearing sobs that felt as if they were rupturing her chest, shredding her throat. She would have screamed with the pain breaking her if she had been able to draw enough breath, but all she could do was huddle on the floor, the trembling worsening within her.

She didn't want to feel, she didn't want to think, to move. His presence overwhelmed her, brought too much pain for her to handle.

She couldn't examine it, she couldn't face it.

Her throat was raw and burning as she managed to stumble to her feet, and make her way to the bathroom, her hand against the wall for support. She splashed cold water on her face, gasping at the shock of it, but the chill gave her a sense of control.

She hung over the sink, shuddering with the effort she was making to contain her anguish, but she slowly straightened examining her reflection, her face a splotchy red, her eyes swollen, her cheeks stained with wetness.

Staring at the haunted emptiness of her eyes, she wondered if she'd ever be able to forget about him, if she's ever stop feeling the pain of knowing he had never loved her.

How was it possible to do this when she looked into his eyes everyday?

How was it possible to forget what he had helped create?

Why did she still have to love him? It would be so much easier if she could hate him, but she couldn't. She was angry and betrayed, she had trusted him, only to have it all thrown back in her face repeatedly.

But she didn't hate him.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Natalie asked, stepping into the bathroom, Quinn nestled in her arms. Her eyes searching her daughter's ravaged features, seeing the strain of sleepless nights on her colorless face, the dark shadows that lay under her eyes.

Tris reached out , placing a soft kiss on her daughter's forehead before nodding towards the packed brown boxes the movers were efficiently handling.

If she couldn't hate him, she could at least protect herself by never letting him get close enough to hurt her again, to hurt Quinn.

"It's the only option, the only way."

* * *

 **ERIC COULTER'S RESIDENCE**  
 **SPRING 2013**  
 **SATURDAY - 4:46 P.M.**

Eric's sweating face was a fierce mask of hatred and rage. His hair was matted to his forehead, scratches on his knuckles, his shirt specked with blood.

His hands clenched on the front of Al's shirt as he drew his friend closer, his blue eyes almost black with fury, his tone grim.

"One more time, Al, just so I make sure that I completely understood what was said."

"I lied." Al's voice was weak, the earlier confidence in his decision disappearing as he felt the fresh blood seep from his nose courtesy of Eric's fist.

Eric released his grip, Al crumbling to the pavement as he turned shoving his fingers through his hair, his eyes wild in anguish.

"How did this happen?" Eric hissed, stalking back towards Al who cowered as he drew closer.

"It was a mistake," Al insisted. "I never knew it would go this far."

"A mistake? A simple mistake?" Eric roared, his foot rearing back before connecting in a solid kick across Al's middle, causing him to collapse in a wheezing mass. "What the fuck did you do?"

"Eric," Four quickly stepped between the two, placing his hands against his best friend's shoulders, attempting to hold him, but Eric pushed away his eyes narrowing. "Al, I would explain quickly."

"You have two minutes." Eric warned. "And then I would suggest you run."

"I…" Al's voice stuttered. "I'm…"

"What?" Eric coaxed. "What are you? A bastard? Yes. A coward? Yes. Dead? More than likely."

"I'm gay." Al blurted out, his dark eyes going wide with shock as he revealed his closely guarded secret to his teammates. He had only said that words out loud once before.

"Um…okay…" Four said turning to look at an equally stunned Eric. "I didn't see that one coming."

"You're gay?" Eric numbly repeated and Al silently nodded his agreement. "As in you enjoy men?" Again Al nodded. "Then exactly how did Tris end up naked with you and the proclamation that you had been fucking her for weeks come true?"

"Eric, you have to understand. She was going to tell." Al stammered, pushing himself to his feet, slightly swaying. "She had pictures. She was going to show everyone unless I helped her."

"Al," Eric said softly. "The clock is ticking. I would suggest you start inserting names if it's Tris at fault."

"Lauren caught me with my boyfriend after a movie. I thought we had gone far enough out of town, but apparently I was wrong. She followed us, took pictures, and came to me with the proposition that if I didn't help her, she would show the whole community."

"And what did she want."

"You." And Eric closed his eyes, bile rising in his throat, remembering the times he had allowed the head cheerleader to touch him after his break-up with Tris. "She would show my parents, Eric, do you understand that? They would have disowned me. There was no choice, not for me, not in the end."

Lauren had gotten exactly what she desired except for one thing. Eric Coulter could never love her, he would love no one but Tris.

"Why Tris?" Four asked. "Why did it have to be her?"

"Because she was the one thing Eric cherished. She was what stood in Lauren's way. Tris made it almost to easy, she was so trusting. She said…" Al's voice trailed off with memory.

"What did she say, Al?" Eric asked, his voice silky.

"That she was happy I was there. That she hated being at parties without you, but you insisted she go and you would follow. She was uncomfortable, she was worried something could happened. All she wanted was you." Al explained, finally turning to face Eric who had turned a sickening white.

"She trusted you."

"Yes." Al's voice was barely above a whisper. "She was so tiny, it was just two sedative mixed with a few beers. It knocked her out cold. I undressed and put her in bed and waited for you. And then it went perfectly to plan. She couldn't remember, couldn't explain, I lied and somehow made it the clear."

"She never touched you." Eric's voice was rusted, feeling desperation claw his insides.

"Never," Al confirmed. "After you found us she was sick in the bathroom, screaming at me asking what I had done and I told her what I needed to do. I told her I was sorry."

The silence of the basketball court was broken at the sound of Eric's heavy breathing.

"You ruined everything I ever cared about because you thought it would matter if you enjoyed sucking men's cocks. Did you ever want to fuck me?" Eric demanded and Al wordlessly shook his head. "Then why would it matter to me? To anyone?"

"Reputation is all we have." Al stated.

"Reputation?" Eric spit out. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"You're no saint golden boy." Al hissed, refusing to be crucified as the only who cared of his social standing. "Isn't that why you tormented for her months, for the sake of your bruised ego?" Eric's mouth snapped shut at Al's truth. "You should have listened to her, hell believed in her. To make it sweeter she even had proof to back her story."

"What proof? That piece of paper she always tried to show me?"

"Yep, a single paper, her redemption. A doctor's examination, no signs of any sexual intercourse of any kinds and even a trace of the sedative. You should have taken the time to read it."

Proof. She had proof. He hadn't listened. He never had. He had been so arrogant, so assuming that he had been the wronged party.

"She wouldn't let me tell, the damage was already done. She fucking forgave me. I ruined her life and she accepted a simple I'm sorry." Al confessed, twisting the knife deeper. Said that there was no use in telling you, that she wanted you to believe her on blind faith, because what was love without trust. You failed her, I didn't, you did."

 _"You did."_

The words mocked him.

Four heard a sickening thud, a groan of agony. He managed to raise his head in time to watch Eric's fist connect to Al's face, which was already streaked with blood. Al doubled over, but Eric was holding him so that he couldn't fall forward. The expression on his face stunned Four into utter immobility. Never had he seen such a look of murderous fury. Eric hit him in his abdomen, and again on the nose with an undercut that cracked resoundingly and sent his Al's head whipping back. Still holding him, Eric viciously kicked his legs out from under him, and Al went flying to his ass on the pavement.

He spoke very softly, his voice so slow and husky it appeared to be slurred. "Care to try again, my friend?"

Al lurched unsteadily to his feet swaying. He mouthed something incoherent, shaking his head and back away.

"I would run boy and spread your story before I have a chance. You've seen my work."

Al clenched his stomach as he stumbled toward the front of Eric's house, knowing he was ruined, but Tris deserved the truth. He had known that the moment he had spotted the blood on the tile in front of her locker.

Four stood silently as Eric sank to his knees, horror growing inside of him as he pounded his fist on the pavement, feel the cold black wrapping around him, freezing him all the way to his soul.

"God in heaven, what have I done to her?" he chocked, bile rising into his throat. "She's innocent. What have I done?"

He had driven her to the very edge, hurt her, he winced at the thought of how much have hurt her. He would give anything to take it back, to wipe the past seven months out of existence for her.

He didn't allow himself to think past the next minute. He couldn't focus on that thought that she no longer would love him. That she would no longer be his arms. Had he really tried to destroyed the best thing in his life, because he couldn't accept it?

What possible retribution could he offer to her?

* * *

 **TRIS PRIOR'S RESIDENCE**  
 **SUMMER 2013**  
 **SATURDAY - 7:15 P.M.**

Eric numbly stared at the white balcony doors before him, searching through the darkness for some sign of the girl he loved.

She was gone, he knew. Before he had raced here, sweat trickling down his back in hear, he had known.

Zeke had taken great pleasure in telling him.

She had run, her parents had been transferred, she had finally escaped his torment.

She was gone. His daughter was gone.

His very life was gone.

"Tris," he pounded on the door, slowly sliding to his knees as he pleaded for her. "Please…I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I know I hurt you, I know I did, but please, not this." Tears began to drip down his cheeks and he could barely contain his scream of agony. "I know you hate me."

This is what he had wanted for months, what he had pushed towards.

"You're not going to push me out of your life, because I was stupid, because I was afaird. I won't let you." He whispered harshly. "Let me proive that you can trust me. That you are the most important thing in my life."

Two hours later, Eric weakly pounded once more, his voice hoarse, hope faded.

"Please baby…please…"

* * *

 **TRIS PRIOR'S VOICEMAIL**  
 **SUNDAY - 1:11 A.M.**

"I love you. I love Quinn. Always have, always will."

* * *

 **TRIS PRIOR's VOICEMAIL**  
 **MONDAY - 3:30 P.M.**

"Please talk to me…call me…I don't care when…what time…I just need your voice…"

* * *

 **TRIS PRIOR'S VOICEMAIL**  
 **TUESDAY - 11:35 P.M.**

"It's raining here tonight. I went to your balcony sat outside, I convinced myself you were there scared, that Quinn's scared and you needed me there to hold you, to fight the shadows away. Do you know I still sat on your balcony after we broke up? I thought it helped, I could still protect you."

TRIS PRIOR's VOICEMAIL

WEDNESDAY - 10:32 A.M.

"I miss you."

TRIS PRIOR's VOICEMAIL

THURSDAY - 7:52 P.M.

"So Four and I went to the mall today. You would have loved it. I couldn't help it though, I bought her this light yellow dress, the sales associate kept following us around, kept hitting on Four. He got her a bib it says My Uncle Rocks, wants to put his picture on it. I thought she could get her picture in the dress. I could…I could send it to you…you know, Zeke could. He knows where you are. He won't tell me."

* * *

 **TRIS PRIOR'S VOICEMAIL**  
 **FRIDAY - 2:38 A.M.**

"Do you listen to these? You must. Your mailbox isn't full. You haven't blocked me."

* * *

 **TRIS PRIOR'S VOICEMAIL**  
 **SATURDAY - 6:06 P.M.**

"I'm an asshole. I know. Four's an asshole. He knows. Everyone knows the truth now. Everyone wants to apologize. It's too late I know, but you can come home…to me…come back to me…"

* * *

 **TRIS PRIOR'S VOICEMAIL**  
 **SUNDAY - 9:22 A.M.**

"I got into North Carolina. We were going together remember?"

* * *

 **TRIS PRIOR'S VOICEMAIL**  
 **MONDAY - 11:59 P.M.**

"Championship game was today. It wasn't right without you there. You should have been there. We won though. I won it for you. For Quinn."

* * *

 **TRIS PRIOR'S VOICEMAIL**  
 **TUESDAY - 1:13 P.M.**

"There's never going to be anyone else. I fucking love you so much. I will wait. For as long as you need me too."

* * *

 **TRIS PRIOR'S VOICEMAIL**  
 **WEDNESDAY - 4:00 P.M.**

"The number you have reached has been disconnected or is no longer in service. Please try again."

" **If I could  
** **I would tell her  
** **Not to be afraid  
** **The pain that she's feeling  
** **The sense of loneliness will fade  
** **So dry your tears and rest assured  
** **Love will find you like before"**


	5. SHADOW

**Thanks for the reviews - remember we've now jumped four years ahead and a lot has changed!**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own Divergent, the series, movies or anything such and I do not own the music or lyrics of Britney Spears. Characters will look like they do in the movie series.**

" **I cannot tell if you mean what you say  
You say it so loud, but you sound far away  
Maybe I had just a glimpse of your soul  
Or was that your shadow I saw on the wall**

 **I'm watching you disappear  
But you, you were never here  
It's only your shadow  
Never yourself**

 **It's only your shadow  
Nobody else"**

\- Britney Spears, SHADOW

 **L.A. CALIFORNIA  
APRIL 2017 - 1:01 P.M.  
TOBIAS EATON**

Tobias Eaton was a hunted man.

Granted he would be the first to admit that he had made many mistakes on the short path his life had taken, but had never once before feared for the consequences of such actions. However, it was the moment that he had come to dread, when payment for all of his sins would finally

be reckoned.

He discovered the truth to the theory that hell hath no fury like the wrath of a woman scorned only hours beforehand. Especially if that woman was an international force known as Jeanine Matthews , than such a saying was understatement.

She was beautiful there was no denying such logic. Poised, elegant with a face that had graced hundreds of magazine covers across the world, but a calm, rational, understanding individual she was not.

Particularly when she discovered that her floral arrangements and center pieces for what she claimed to be her "surprise" engagement party were not accounted for that afternoon.

And Four had had only one task within the scheme of planning the year's biggest wedding event and that was to place the order for such desired flowers

But he had failed to do so.

Miserably.

And now here he stood attempting to right his wrong.

Four stared at the large double doors at the entrance, oleanders and lilies etched into the rich mahogany wood as he grasped the ornate gold handle. A square sign hung above his head painted a dark purple, cursive golden lettering prominently displayed against the eggplant color reading: White Oleander – A Whisper of Beauty.

He had already attempted multiple florists before stumbling upon this shop, each laughing at the idea of putting together twenty-five centerpieces plus a multitude of arrangements in less than twenty-fours hours.

But Four was desperate. He was willing to pay any cost to avoid the she-devil from castrating him as she had explained in vivid detail much to his discomfort if he did not fix this situation.

Four took a deep breath, entering the shop, scents of roses, lilies, daisies overwhelming his scenes as he took a cautious step forward. He passed overflowing bins of fresh cut flowers, iron-welded stands containing colorful, tropical plants, the original brick work and utility tubing of the building exposed, large windows filtered in fresh sunlight.

This place had style, an edgy class, he knew meet the specifications of Jeanine's demands.

As he approached the front counter he spotted a little girl, no older than four, poised on the dark purple marble top, a worn light brown teddy bear clenched in her hands.

Large blue eyes curiously blinked at him, a tangle of honey blonde and chestnut curls tumbling down her back almost to her waist with a daisy chain of fresh flowers resting on her crown. She sniffed, rubbing her nose, smearing the remnants of silver glitter further across her cheek.

"How may I help you?" she politely asked, her eyes sparkling as she correctly repeated the words she had heard her mother and Christina utter multiple times before.

"Are you the one in charge here, young lady?" Four questioned, leaning on the countertop next to her, his tone amused as she adamantly shook her head in agreement to his statement.

"Uh-huh," she said, the daisy chain slipping slightly to the side. "Momma's at school and Auntie Chris is cleaning the wall in back."

"Well maybe you could help me out then. I'm looking for some really pretty flowers, lots of flowers."

"Are you in trouble?" she wrinkled her nose, nodding as her mother's words echoed through her memory. "Boys always come in to buy flowers when their stupid. At least that's what momma says."

"Trouble is an understatement of my situation. So you think you can

help me for being a dumb guy and forgetting a really important event."

Anastasia Quinn Prior ignored his question, her attention becoming solely focused on the black tattoo peeking out of his shirt and onto his neck, her eyes rounding in fascination as she reached a tiny hand towards it.

"Pretty." she giggled and Four let an involuntarily smile slip out.

"It's pretty noticeable, huh?" He pulled his knit cap out of his back pocket, pulling it over his hair.

Quinn held out her arms, impatiently waiting as Four looked at her confused. "Down." she demanded.

As he placed her on the floor she trotted towards a display case, pulling a large bouquet of flowers out, placing the colorful Gerber daisies in his hands.

"These are pretty. They'll make you not so stupid." Quinn stated so matter of factly that Four could not help but chuckle. At least he would have a few moments of enjoyment before Jeanine murdered and hid his body.

The front door to the shop swung open as a young man stalked through the entrance causally dressed in faded jeans and a fitted gray thermal shirt, his expression grim, his mouth drawn in a tight line.

"Four, I'm going to fucking kill you." Eric Coulter stated advancing his best friend, ready to attack him for the difficulty and migraine he had caused that afternoon.

"You're in trouble." Quinn stated wisely, wrapping her arms around her bear.

"And why would you say that?" Four asked, stepping behind her as if she would be his protection from the demented monster glaring at him as if he were the bane of his existence.

"He used two names. Mommy only does that when she's really mad."

Four laughed helplessly at the child's correct observation, wincing as Eric's hand connected, smacking him across the back of his head causing teeth to snap closed.

Quinn stared up wordlessly at the man who had entered White Oleander, examining his dark grey knit cap pulled down low on his forehead and black Ran-Ban aviator sunglasses firmly in place when she realized that her new friend had also put on a sunglasses and pulled his hat lower over his brows.

She wanted to play.

She liked dress up.

Quietly she shrugged her tiny shoulders, ignoring the feuding friends above her as she crawled behind the counter to rummage through Christina's large oversized white tote before pulling a pair of dark pink crystallized sunglasses and multi-colored scarf which she wrapped around her curls before she walked back, a large smile covering her face.

"Seriously, man? One fucking job is all you had to do."

"Dude, now is not the time. You need to watch the language."

"What the hell - now is the fucking time. She is losing her damn mind over this."

"That's a bad word." A small voice chimed causing Eric's head to whip down. "Mommy washes my mouth with soap when I say it."

"And your mother's right," Eric commented, examining the petite pixie clad in a light green dres and oversized sunglasses slipping down her nose. "It's a vile word, I agree. But I won't tell if you don't."

"Only if you tell Auntie Chris that I didn't color on the wall." Quinn stated remembering the lesson Christina had taught her about pouting and blackmail. Even at age four, she had perfected the art.

"And did you color on the wall?" Eric asked, laughing as she nodded. "Well who should I say did it then?"

"You." Quinn said, her tone innocent. "Auntie Chris will believe it."

"Well I guess I could do that." Eric faked a sigh, forgetting his argument with Four for the moment. "What's my punishment if I do?"

"Stand with your nose in the corner. It's really really boring."

"Sounds like it," he agreed. "Maybe you could sit there with me?"

A smile spread across her face as she beamed up at him, a tiny dimple forming on her left cheek.

"Maybe."

She liked him. The grumpy stranger who was willing to take blame for her art piece.

Wordlessly Quinn held her arms up to Eric in a silent demand that he pick her up. Eric stared down at the girl in front of him, a smile curving his lips, as he raised her in his arms so she could comfortably rest on his hip.

She was enchanting.

"I swear to God, Q, when I when I find you, you won't be able to sit for a week. I promise you that, you little terror." An annoyed voice rang out as a furious brunette stepped through the wooden beaded curtain, a wash cloth in her hand, her expression pinched.

Four quickly straightened as he took in the pale pink miniskirt that displayed long, mocha colored legs, and white fitted button down shirt. Now this was the business he enjoyed.

"Customers, shit." Christina stated as she drew to a halt. "I mean welcome to White Oleander. May I by chance trouble you for the small girl covered in glitter whose short life is about to end?"

Christina paused for a moment the sight in front of her. Two grown men with hats pulled low, wearing sunglasses and her best friend's daughter comfortably resting of the hip of one copying their look.

"I swear it wasn't me." Quinn said, holding two fingers up in a promise.

"I don't believe that innocence for one moment. I taught you that." she attempted to pull Quinn from the handsome stranger's arms but she dove deeper into his embrace, fingers clenching into his shirt.

Well that was different.

Quinn normally never let any man pick her up and Christina had never seen her cling to one before.

"Are the paparazzi after you boys, because honestly walking around with sunglasses in the middle of the day in a store is not exactly a way to not draw attention to yourselves." Christina said watching as they stiffened at her correct assumption. "Apparently. How interesting." She paused before settling a stern glare on Quinn. "And what have I told you about talking to strangers, young lady?"

"His name is Mr. He Did Something Really Stupid." Quinn stated, pointing to Four whose cheeks flushed a dull red at the brunette's appraisal.

"See we're not strangers. You heard her, he's Mr. He Did Something Really Stupid." Eric said, his expression serious, attempting to contain his laughter at the child's nickname name, ignoring Four hand gestured response, wincing as Quinn pinched the flesh on his shoulder. "Oh and just so you know she was telling the truth. I colored on your wall."

"Really? Did you now? You designed the large green blob covered with silver sparkle glitter glue. That was your best attempt at defacing property? It's pathetic."

"I failed art repeatedly."

"Well, if that's your excuse than I accept." Christina said, arching an eyebrow at the look of adoration on Quinn's face.

"What corner should I stand in? I understand that's the standard punishment."

"You were honest and so you deserve a reward. Maybe an ice cream sundae?"

"No!" Horror rounded Quinn's eyes. Ice cream sundaes were her favorite. "I did it! It was me!"

"You are so much like your mother. It's too easy, darling, never play with the master." Christina sighed, shaking her head as Quinn stuck out her tongue at being caught. "And she'll give you your punishment later."

"I need your help." Four blurted out, remembering his reason for entering the store. "Desperately so."

"I'm guessing you need a floral arrangement."

"I need at least thirty. By tomorrow." he winced as she let out a snort of laughter.

"Are you serious?"

"He forgot to place the order. You know four months ago when he was told. He just had to help and then didn't." Eric said nodding and Quinn mimicked his movement.

"I am begging you," Four stated dramatically dropping to his knees, his hands clasped in front of him, desperation forming in his eyes. "Please please help me!"

"Jesus, man," Eric breathed, shifting Quinn on his hip. "Have some dignity. Please, it's embarrassing."

Christina giggled at the sight. She had always imagined a handsome man begging at her feet.

Just not for flowers.

"Did you have something in mind?"

"Pretty, smells good, whatever it is I don't care." Four said, shrugging his shoulders. "But pink, lots and lots pink."

"Well it's good to see she has excellent taste in color. I don't know though."

"What if I pay in cash," Four said whipping out his wallet. "I have plenty. Three thousand now and four more once the arrangements are delivered and in place."

"Seven thousand?" Christina's mouth slightly dropped open at the amount.

"Do you need more? I can get more."

"Trust me, he'll probably pay ten." Eric added in.

"Umm…wow…" she stammered. "One minute, don't go anywhere or if you did, leave the child at least. Her mother likes her."

Christina whipped out her i-phone, quickly dialing Tris Prior's phone number, grinning when her best friend answered.

"It's me…no, your precious angel is fine…that is indeed sarcasm...she painted the wall green with glitter…she got some really hot customer to admit he did it…no! I will not make him stand in the corner…anyway, you had no plans to sleep tonight did you…you never sleep…$7,000 for thirty arrangements by tomorrow at five…stop laughing, I'm not kidding…cash…CASH…three now…yeah, that's what I thought. Get your ass here…no, I am not washing my mouth out…bye bitch."

Christina walked around the counter, grinning at the thought of a large payday. "We'll do it."

Four let out an excited yelp. He was touched. He truly was.

"Name?" Christina asked, her fingers poised the computer keyboard.

"Mr. Pink Unicorn," Four snapped out immediately regretting his name choice but refrained from slapping himself across the forehead.

He needed to learn better alias names.

"Your name is Mr. Pink Unicorn?" Christina said, her tone disbelieving.

"No, no," Eric interrupted. "I'm Mr. Unicorn, he's Mr. He Did Something Really Stupid. He's much like his name."

"Pink's not my favorite color. I love blue, it's my favorite." Quinn said as Eric let of a soft chuckle.

"It's one of my favorite too." He sighed, his stomach shifting as the little girl beamed back at him, resting her head on his shoulder right above his heart, the gentle pounding lulling her, a tiny hand twirling a curl around her finger, a sure indication that she had grown weary.

Eric felt something inside of him break again. An old wound repeatedly stitched but one that refused to heal. No one had nestled so trustingly in his arms since his daughter.

He had not felt such a calming peace since that moment, since the last moment he had held a willing Tris against him.

No face, no body had taken that place. They were all her. Each nameless face.

She would haunt him for his life as she had done so for four years.

And he had learned to exist.

"Hell," he muttered as he stared at the name flashing on, vibrating from his phone.

"Hell," Quinn repeated adoringly.

"You want me to get in trouble?" he asked as he shoved the phone back into his jeans pocket. "Four speed this along. We're being beckoned."

His future called.

* * *

L.A. CALIFORNIA  
APRIL 2017 - 3:30 P.M.  
TRIS PRIOR

"Next time you agree to such a thing, I am going to smack you silly, no matter how wonderful the price." Tris Prior promised darkly, barely smothering a yawn as she lifted a box in her arms somehow managing to keep a firm grasp of Quinn's hand as they walked through the back entrance of the ballroom having passed security.

"Well, I couldn't help it. He got on his knees as begged and Quinn loved his friend. I've never seen her relax in such a manner. It was like she knew them."

"Mr. Pink Unicorn and Mr. He Did Something Really Stupid, huh? That's all she talked about last night. But really we need to discuss your order taking ability. We need real names next time."

"It was a seven thousand dollar cash sale, fuck off and praise me like you should."

Tris let a weary sigh, rotating her sore shoulders as she set Quinn on a chair with the order to pull the pale pink pedals off the roses and place them in the basket knowing it would keep her entertained long enough to set up the engagement floral arrangements.

She wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball on the floor and sleep for days on end, but knew that the possibility of such a luxury was next to non-existent.

When was the last time she slept more than four hours, she thought. Sleep had become a distant memory of the past, insomnia fate's cruel joke on her.

She had rarely slept when Quinn had been an infant between raising her daughter, working full-time and taking online college courses, sleep was her sacrifice for existence.

With her parents death two years prior in a car accident, any peace of mind had fled from her mind. Her parents were dead, but her daughter had lived. What trade was that?

But she had opened her own business with the life insurance money, she and her best friend of three years, had fought and clawed to make their dream a reality. And this seven thousand dollar payday would allow for at least four months of rent and an assortment of new floral arrangements.

It would give her space to breathe. Finally.

So feeling like the living dead was well worth the effort.

The white linen oval tables were scattered with clean, straightforward beauty. Various illuminated votives, tall hand-blown glass vases showcasing a selection of gentle pink flowers. A contrast between the modern and the traditional with an array of fragrant old-fashioned roses, blushing with a dark pink outline and complimented by a collar of pink hydrangea and amaranthus cascading over its edge. Large arrangement of pink and white tulips gathered together overflowing in bubble vases, rose petals randomly scattered across the tables. Fresh cut, exotic Cymbidium orchids dominated the bold selection created with blush, white and burgundy blooms.

The overall effect would create a subtle light and shadows at nightfall.

It was romantic.

It was perfect.

"It's breathtaking. She'll love it."

Christina grinned at hearing Mr. Pink Unicorn's amazed voice over her shoulder as she turned around to greet the two men she had meet yesterday.

Christina's mouth dropped open as she examined the features of "Mr. Pink Unicorn" and "Mr. He Did Something Really Stupid" without the guise of sunglasses and hats.

She knew their faces. She had seen photos, heard stories, looked into the eyes each day.

Blue eyes. Shockingly blue eyes rimmed with silver.

Quinn's eyes.

Fuck, she thought, her stomach clenching. Tris is going to kill me. Simple as that I am dead.

Dauntless. Leaders to the hottest band currently in the world.

Eric Coulter. Tobias "Four" Eaton.

Eric Coulter.

Quinn's father.

She had sold flowers to Quinn's father. He had held her, laughed with her.

He hadn't known. He didn't recognize her. And silently Christina thanked Quinn's love of dress up for that matter.

Christina turned on her heel, rushing across the room, ignoring their startled glances, coming even as Tris and Quinn placed the last of the rose petals of the final table.

"Tris, you have to remain calm. I can explain this." Christina stammered.

"Breathe Christina, what's wrong with you?"

"But we need to leave. Right now. You have to get Quinn and go –"

"Mr. Pink Unicorn!" Quinn called out, ignoring Christina's frantic attempts to catch her arm, running across the room, her tiny legs pumping.

"Quinn, no! What have I told you!" Tris called out, pushing Christina's fingers from her arm.

"You need to listen to me," Christina demanded as Tris took off after her daughter. "No! Tris!"

Eric smiled as he heard a young voice call his nickname and watched as his pixie skipped towards him.

"I wore blue, just for you. I told momma it was your favorite." Quinn stated, spinning, causing the sundresses skirt to billow around her.

He leaned down, smiling at her before he noticed the necklace placed around her neck. With shaking fingers he pulled the chain, a tiny charm resting in his palm. It was the necklace he had placed around Tris's neck five years prior.

It couldn't be the same.

It wasn't possible.

There was more than one of this necklace in the world.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, his voice rusted.

"It was my mommy's." Quinn smiled. "Daddy gave it to her."

His eyes snapped to hers, examining the color, shape, depth.

She had his eyes.

And he hadn't noticed yesterday because of the sunglasses and his distraction.

His daughter was here.

He had held her, made her smile, laughed at her observations.

The simple thought choked him and as he drew Quinn into his arms, burying his face into her curls, his eyes burning with emotion, coating with tears.

He heard a soft gasp and his head snapped up.

Tris stood only a few feet away from him and blinked, trying to adjust herself to the reality of his presence, that he was simply not a figment of her imagination.

But watching her with those unnerving blue eyes, the realization came that he was very real, entirely too potent and solid to disappear if she blinked her eyes. Her pulse began to beat faster, her breath rapid and shallow and she caught her lower lip between her teeth, gently wetting it, his gaze growing lazy with intent as he watched the movement.

He looked taut, his skin pulled over his cheekbones, his mouth compressed into a thin line. "Tris," he whispered savagely, his blue eyes leaping furiously.

He saw her full, soft lips part as she started to say something and a hunger rose up in him like a tidal wave, crashing down and sweeping everything else away.

It had been four years to long.

And he refused to waste another moment.

She gasped at the contract of his warm, muscled body. Fighting for control, she turned her head to him to demand that he let her loose but he took advantage of the opportunity, fitting her more tightly into the curve of his body with the pressure of his arms, and bending his head down.

His mouth was hot and wild, hard and deep. Tris gripped the front of his shirt, the force of his mouth opened hers, and he took her with his tongue. He held her to him with painful pressure, crushing her breasts against him, cradling her against the aching ridge of his manhood.

Vaguely she heard other people around them. It didn't matter. He increased the slant of his head, tucking hers more firmly into his shoulder, arousing her, satisfying her, consuming her. His tongue damp, tracing hers in a wicked pattern she had long forgotten, his fingers caressing the bare skin of her shoulders.

Her heart lurched as pleasure overrode shock, swiftly escalating to an almost unbearable tension. She met the intrusion of his tongue with her own, he shuddered and for a moment his arms tightened so fiercely that she moaned into his mouth.

Breathing swiftly, he lifted his head, only inches apart, they stared at each other. His expression was hard and sensual, his lips still gleaming from the moisture of their kiss.

The timbre of his voice, the dilated glitter of his eyes caused her hands to suddenly find the strength to push against him as panic flared with the realization of what she had done, that his daughter was only steps away, that the day she feared had finally arrived.

"Eric, baby, we need to discuss the matter of the wedding invitations. Daddy…"

Tris turned her head to stare in amazement at Jeanine Matthews, who looked beautiful in a green dress meant to flatter her ice blonde perfection.

She was striking, tall, her eyes were piercingly blue and darkly accented, her mouth an uncompromising scarlet.

The model/actress was a picture of self-confidence as she smiled at Eric, fully expecting him to welcome her interruption with welcome arms.

"Not now, Jeanine."

"But baby, this is important."

"I said not now!" Eric roared, his jaw clenching, his eyes glittering dangerously as she instinctively took a step back.

He was getting married. This was his engagement party.

Tris felt her stomach clench as she realized that she was face to face with the woman Eric intended to marry, to pledge his life and devotion to. His words whispered into her voicemail four years prior swirled through her mind, taunting her with what could have been, with what he had promised that was once again broken.

" _I'll wait for you. However long it takes you. I'll wait for you forever."_

Her dark eyes turned cold, she stepped back from his reach, her words narrow and taunt with the statement.

"I guess forever turned out to be too long."

 **"It's only your shadow  
Filling the room  
Arriving too late"**


	6. I RUN AWAY

_Thank you all so much for the reviews - I truly truly appreciate it! Also thank you to Guest reviewer who noticed another story published recently very much like my own - same structure with the date, location and person (very not like their prior stories) to ending the chapter with a pleading voicemail sequence. Hopefully now that my story has jumped four years, the similarities between the two can now end. Again - thank you for reading!_

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Divergent, the series, movies or anything such and I do not own the music or lyrics of Britney Spears. Characters will look like they do in the movie series.

 **"You threw it all away**  
 **So blind**  
 **Pushed me far from you and your life**  
 **Now I know the tears**  
 **Won't relieve the loneliness**  
 **Maybe when time goes by**  
 **I'll understand it**

 **Lets pretend that I've moved on**  
 **And I'll tell myself**  
 **That life goes on without you."**

BRITNEY SPEARS, **I RUN AWAY**

 **PRIOR APARTMENT COMPLEX**  
 **APRIL 2017 - 9:15 P.M.**  
 **TRIS PRIOR**

"So are you by any chance talking to me again or are you still pretending that I don't even exist?" Christina asked, her tone light with teasing but Tris could hear the serious questioning underlying as she propped her shoulder against the wooden doorframe.

Tris opened her eyes, glaring at her best friend who studied her with a remorseful expression crossing her delicate features as she let out a tired sigh.

She was exhausted.

"Because if we are speaking again, I may be tempted to share my delicious treat with you," Christina bribed, dangling the whiskey bottle from her fingers, smirking slightly.

"Give me the entire bottle and I'll not slap you when you sit down. How does that work for you?"

"Good enough," Christina shrugged stepping further onto the outside balcony, handing the whiskey and the tumbler to her best friend, before flopping down into the cushioned chair, swinging her feet to rest on the railing, mimicking Tris's position.

"However, if you ever, and I do mean ever, promise our services to client that is clad in sunglasses, a hat and a horribly made-up name, I will burn all of your clothes and snap the heels from you stilettos while you sleep." Tris promised darkly, relaxing into the thick white cushion of her lounge, pouring herself a generous portion of bourbon. "No matter the cost."

"Cruel and unusual punishment, I like it."

"Then we are in agreement." Tris sighed, wincing at the headache that had formed, a dull, throbbing pain behind her eyes.

She took comfort in the knowledge that she had handled the situation to the best of her ability, considering the surrounding circumstances.

She had felt the emotions she had kept tightly reigned over for four years begin to dissolve, thaw at the touch of his lips, the sensation of his tongue gliding against hers once again. The man that had cleverly assaulted his mouth was not an illusion, he was achingly familiar.

But with the introduction of his beautiful fiancée she felt her control slightly crumble, teetering on a delicate balance. In one aspect she wanted to slap him across the face for daring to taste her when he belonged to another, but on a different level the desire to sink her claws into the flawless, porcelain skin of Jeanine Matthews for belonging to the one she still desired was overwhelming.

Instead Tris had swept a protesting Quinn into her arms, her eyes large, widened in pain and disbelief, dark against her pale features. Eric had taken a step forward, one hand uselessly reaching out, uttering for her to stay, but she hadn't.

She had ran. Again.

Only this time she knew he would follow, fight for his daughter as she wished, hoped, he would have four years prior.

All she had to was wait.

* * *

 **PRIOR APARTMENT COMPLEX**  
 **APRIL 2017 - 10:01 P.M.**  
 **TRIS PRIOR**

She said nothing when she saw him, continuing to sip of her whiskey, wincing slightly at the taste of the flat, dry bitterness.

He was silhouetted by the light coming through the double glass doors behind him leading into the apartment, the impact of his physical presence took her breath away. He was bigger than she remembered. His waist and hips were still lean, although she could see his chest and shoulders straining beneath the impeccable cut of his black dinner jacket, the white dress shirt unbuttoned at the base of his strong throat, the charcoal colored tie hanging around his neck undone.

Age had only enhanced, seasoned his look of craving angles, shadowy hollows of his cheeks and the faint cleft in his chin. His hair was darker, almost shaved at the sides, swept back his forehead in a faux hawk style.

Her stomach clenched. It was a mixture of thrilling and horrible reality to watch his mouth curve, slow and devilish, in that familiar smile. She could easily become lost in the dangerous and captivating power in the man that women now shuddered over.

Four years had passed for her to image that smile, to remember the searing pleasure of that clever mouth.

Four years to mourn, to struggle…to hate.

* * *

 **PRIOR APARTMENT COMPLEX**  
 **APRIL 2017 - 10:02 P.M.**  
 **ERIC COULTER**

Eric watched her, judging her movements from the shadows, waiting, wanting.

Captivated by memories he drew closer, his body pulsating as his gaze traced the smooth dusky skin, dewy in the night's humidity.

He could still feel the pull that had always been between them.

He had forgotten so many of the tiny details about her. The way she bit her lower lip, drawing the plump fullness between her teeth when she was scared or worried, the golden flecks hidden in the bitter chocolate color of her eyes, the way her body would naturally curve, molding against him, her head nesting in the hollow of his throat.

She had always been the one.

No matter how many blank faces, the illusion of a relationship, not even the placement of the gaudy diamond ring that sparkled from its place on Jeanine's finger changed that fact.

He would never be free of Tris Prior.

She was his as he had been hers.

"We have a lot to talk about." Eric stated, his husky voice breaking the tense, thick barrier she had erected within moments.

"Do we really? How very curious." her laughter was slight as she delicately sipped at her whiskey, her voice steady despite nerves twining together in her throat. "I honestly can't think of thing I have to say to you."

"Then I'll do the talking and you can expand on a new concept," he suggested, casually lifting the tumbler from her hand, their fingers brushing as she quickly released the crystal into his possession, her skin scolded by the barest touch. "Like listening per chance."

"Listening to you?" Tris scoffed, rolling her eyes, watching as deeply drank before placing the glass of the table beside him. "That's fucking rich."

"You have no right to be angry with me," he insisted. "You ran from me, you left me, remember? You disconnected your number. Not the other way around. I stayed."

"You abandoned me long before that and you know it to be true. You only believed in me, trusted in me once Albert told you the truth." Tris snapped, her head tilting back in a challenge which he willingly accepted. "You were a coward. Hell, you probably still are."

"We have a daughter," Eric's voice was low, deadly, a terrifying hiss as he stepped closer. He gripped her wrists, clamping down on the fragile bone, forcefully jerking her forward until she had no choice but to look in his viciously pale face. Through the thin fabric of her dress she could feel his hard, muscular thighs pressing against her own, shifting as she pushed against his shoulders in a silent demand. "Goddamn you, how could you have kept her from me?"

"Let me go." Tris demanded, twisting, his fingers tightening. "Stop it! You're bruising my wrists."

She had forgotten how quick and strong he actually was.

"Answer the fucking question. It shouldn't be that hard or cannot you not remember how many daddy's you promised her that she had." Eric taunted, releasing his grip, staring at her with the remnants of disgust, his anger overruling his logic.

"This is not all my blame. You never followed me! You stopped when I changed my number, you forgot, you didn't fucking care!" she shouted, her control snapping, four years of pent of frustration and anger exploding as she swung out. The crack of her hand against his cheek, stunning both of them, before she pressed her fingers to her lips. "You weren't there."

"I'm here now." Eric stated, tasting blood on his inner cheek. "She's mine too. Tris, no matter how much you would enjoy altering that fact, it remains true."

"What exactly did you expect from me, Eric? I was seventeen and scared. You were so cruel, why would I even consider trusting you. You tried everything in your power to destroy me." Tris dragged her thin fingers through her thick hair. "I won't apologize for keeping her from you. You weren't ready. I did what I thought was best. Right or wrong, no questions asked, it was my choice."

"I won't let you keep her from me, Tris." he said as he shoved his hands deep into his pants pockets. "Not now. No matter what you think or feel for me, no matter what court order you attempt to obtain. She's my daughter. I want to be part of her life."

"I won't let you hurt her." Tris's voice was soft.

"I wouldn't. I can't."

"What happens when she loves you? When she expects to see you in the morning, to tuck her in at night, to chase the monsters away?" her lower lip trembled. "What do you think the loving press will do to this story?"

"Fuck the paparazzi. Fuck my fiancée. This is not about them." Eric reached out, his fingers caressed her high cheekbones, sliding through her hair, tilting her head back, their bodies brushing. "This is about me and you. This is about Quinn."

Tris sighed, her eyes drifting shut. How she wanted to believe what she said to be true.

"I want to see my daughter."

Her body stiffened at his statement.

"She's asleep."

"I promise not to wake her."

She wanted to refuse him, but it would be useless. If he wanted to see Quinn, she couldn't physically stop him, She sighed resignedly and led him through the living room, her bare feet sinking into the thick carpet, before indicating to the door painted a light lilac.

The hallway light spilled into the dark room as Eric took cautious steps forward, his heart thudding before crouching down next to the small bed in the corner. He glanced at the nightstand next to the bed, his breath catching at the sight of a framed picture of him and Tris, the last taken when they were together.

She had her eyes closed, resting her head of his shoulder, his own was titled towards her, a slight smile of contentment curling his lips, and their hands intertwined resting on the swell of her lower stomach.

Unknowingly protecting the life that lay beneath.

The life he had almost once destroyed.

Why should Tris trust him?

Quinn was in her usual sleeping position. She lay on her stomach, her head turned to one side, her knees drawn up under her stomach, her bottom stuck up in the air, blonde hair tumbling across the mattress.

Tris carefully watched Eric's reaction as he studied his daughter whose gentle, rapid breathing was the only noise in her small room.

All sweetness, no guile.

He reached out, his hand trembling, stroking his fingers down Quinn's cheek, her flesh warm and soft against his own.

"Hello Quinn," he whispered. "I missed you, baby."

How was it possible to feel such contentment from a simple statement, the simple knowledge he had found his life once again.

"She's wearing my jersey number." He for the first time noticed the number 17 tee shirt she wore, far to large, but well-worn still.

"She knows who her father is." Tris said.

"I find that hard to believe. She's seen me twice and never once was there a flare of recognition."

"She's barely four years old, Eric. What do you expect?" she asked, her voice tight. "Her to look at a disguised stranger and scream daddy and run into your arms? Which she basically did do with the exception of the words."

"She doesn't know my face, my voice."

"Because it's different. Colder, harder than what she's seen, what she's heard." Tris let out a soft sigh. "I've never hidden the fact you were her father. She has your picture next to her bed, she wears the necklace you gave me. She plays basketball because her daddy did. She loves you." Tears threatened. "Not that you deserve it."

The words hung in the atmosphere between them, frozen in time, crackling with emotion and expectation.

"She has your eyes, your smile, much smaller, but still the same." Tris turned walking from the room, tears welling in her eyes.

It was almost to much for her to see.

Eric leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Quinn's forehead, silently promising he would return before he followed Tris to the living room where she stood, staring out the open window into the darkness.

He dragged in the hot, thick air, the scent of flowers overwhelming his senses and he rubbed his hands across his face, pressing the heels against his eyes.

Grief racked her body, burned her throat. "She holds her head the way you do, rubs the back of her neck when she's nervous. And it breaks my heart. It made me ache for you."

"I know I hurt you." Whatever else he had planned to say lodged in his throat as her eyes clashed with his, swirling with emotions that were painful to watch.

"You have no idea what you did to me." The words were hardly more than a whisper. "I gave you everything. I loved you with what I was or could be, and you shattered it. And it didn't matter to you until it was to late." She sucked in her breathe, going still as his hand reached for her. "Don't touch me."

His hand paused before it dropped uselessly to his side. "You have every right to hate me. I only want to explain."

"Do you really think that anything you say could make up for it? You ask entirely to much of me. I'm not that forgiving."

She had always been strong, he remembered. But now she was stronger and more distant.

And he couldn't touch her, not now, no matter how badly he needed too.

Tris barely stopped herself, realizing how close was to screaming and losing what little control she had left. "I have every right to hate you," she said calmly, drawing in a deep breath. "I could tell you that you broke my heart and some days I wonder if the effort it took to pick myself back up was enough. There were days when I wanted to die. I'm who I made myself."

The independence in her tone provided Eric with a frightening piece of information of which he accepted.

The fact that maybe Tris had finally gotten over him. That she wanted to move on in her life. That she wouldn't always love him.

He simply refused that to be true.

He had let the past and Al's lies blind him to Tris's truth.

But not a moment longer.

Eric gripped her waist before she could avoid the contact, tightening as he slowly backed her against the wall, pushing her back against the hard surface as she gasped at his force.

"I want my daughter. I want you. I want my life back." He said hoarsely, tracing a finger tip across the woven strap of silky material of strapless blue dress. "And by god, I'm taking what I want."

Caught up in his own feelings, he missed the warning flash in her eyes before she stepped closer allowing

Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes darkened as they stared into his. Eric pushed his body against her, allowing her softness to rest against his strength, gripping her wrists to the wall next to her head.

He forgot the importance of control, forgot everything but the fact that her mouth was an inch away from his.

"No, your not. I won't allow for it." Her voice was dark, mysterious.

As if on cue, his cell phone began to ring, the tone obviously chosen for his conveniently forgotten fiancée.

"You should get that," she said and he drew in a shuddering breath. "You remember fiancée, correct? The one you pledged to love? Aren't you suppose to be an engagement party, yours specifically? Better not keep her waiting a moment longer. She may run."

It was a game she couldn't afford to lose.

And one he would do anything to win.

 **"Open my eyes and look deep inside,**  
 **I run away"**


	7. WHERE ARE THEY NOW

Thank you for all your reviews and for giving the story a chance! I appreciate it so much!

 **DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Divergent, the series, movies or anything such and I do not own the music or lyrics of Britney Spears. Characters will look like they do in the movie series.

 **"I can hear your voice**  
 **The rain of yesterday**  
 **It seemed so close to me**  
 **But yet so far away**

 **I should let it out**  
 **To see whats left of me**  
 **And close the doors,**  
 **Look down without my dignity"**

\- Britney Spears, **WHERE ARE THEY NOW**

 **WHITE OLEANDER**  
 **APRIL 2017 - 2:21 P.M.**  
 **TRIS PRIOR**

"Can we call him?"

"No."

There was a long pause before the tiny voice sweetly quipped again. "What about now?"

"No." Tris held up a finger in warning quickly cutting off Quinn's response as she opened her mouth once more to plead. "And not now either."

"But momma," Quinn pouted, her lower lip puckering slightly as she leaned forward on the counter, her miniature orange basketball tucked against her stomach, ignoring the long gray cat that stretched out beside her, his tail twitching. "Please. He said he like to play basketball like me." Her eyes lit as if she had found the solution to her issue in gaining her mother's approval and bargained. "He could teach you to play too, you know. So you don't throw like a girl anymore."

"He already did that," Tris murmured under her breath, pushing her side-swept bands from her eyes, a slight tingle sweeping through her body with memory. "Many times. Often without clothes."

"Why without clothes? Were they dirty?" Quinn asked, her tone confused, as Tris groaned aloud realizing that she had voiced such a memory in front of her child.

"Quinn, Mr. Pink Unicorn is busy, do you understand? He was saying it to be polite. He's getting married, getting ready to go on tour."

"But he said it would be okay. He said to call at anytime." Quinn interrupted, stubbornly insisting that her new friend had been sincere. She liked him. He had been warm, strength radiating as he had teased her, held her as if she belonged to him, that she was his own.

Silently Tris efficiently arranged the geraniums, examining the vivid blooms, praying for patience. Normally her Sunday afternoons at White Oleander was quiet, filling orders for the oncoming week as Quinn attempted her latest art project of defacing the building or tormenting Sampson as the kitten would attempt to sleep.

But not today. Today was quickly transpiring into a hellish nightmare.

All because Eric fucking Coulter has unknowingly stepped in, throwing her world to a chaos havoc in matter of days with her main concern being when he would demand his right to his daughter and Quinn's constant begging to call the man she was unaware of her connection too.

Tris knew that would change.

And soon.

She released a drawn-out breath, the sound hissing through her teeth, her annoyance barely contained until she stared down at the little pointed face with its pert nose and involuntarily smiled back as Quinn's hand nervously rubbed the back of her neck, waiting for her mother's answer.

"God, you're so much like your father." The words slipped wistfully past Tris's lips before she realized her mistake. "He never knew when to quit."

"Really?" Excitement swarmed Quinn's eyes, rounding them, at the mention of her father as she quickly forgot her mission to persuade her mother to visit with her beloved Mr. Pink Unicorn.

To Quinn her father was almost like a dream, her favorite bedtime fairytale, a memory that caused her mother to gently smile before she cried.

"How do I? Tell me." She demanded, impatiently yanking on the white fabric of her mother's dress. "I wanna know."

Tris leaned down, her face drawing even with Quinn's as she whispered.

"When he was nervous he would rub his hand across the back of his neck and shift to the side before he blushed at the attention. Just like you do. And do you know what would fix it?"

"No," fascination filled her tone. "What?"

"It's a secret."  
"I can keep a secret." Quinn held up two fingers in a pledge as she had often seen Christina due when her actions caused trouble and she would promise to avoid mischief again. "I swear."

"He would stop asking his mother the same question over and over again." Tris reached out, lightly tickling her stomach and Quinn erupted in giggles, squirming against her hold before lightly resting her head against her mother's shoulder.

"Do you think daddy loves me?" Her tone was serious, slightly quivering.

"Oh baby," Tris sighed, her emotions shattering at the innocence of the question as her fingers traced over the necklace resting at the base of Quinn's neck. "I know he does."

"Do you think he'll come home soon?"

"You know what, I think he just might. Would you like that?" she asked and Quinn nodded.

A large smile spread across Quinn's features at the thought of her returning father and she took in Tris's softening expression before deciding it had been long enough since she last asked.

"What about now?" Quinn whined dropping the ball to the counter, folding her hands together. "Pretty please?"

"You don't know when to stop," Tris snapped, her patience abruptly ending. "Just ask me one more time and see what I tell you."

Quinn's mouth shut as she examined her mother for a long moment attempting to figure out if it was a trick before she decided it was safe to continue.

"It's a trick, pixie, one that normally results in a punishment." A husky voice from the doorway warned.

"Mr. Pink Unicorn!"

Great, Tris groaned slightly. Fucking fantastic.

What else could complete her afternoon?

* * *

 **WHITE OLEANDER**  
 **APRIL 2017 - 2:29 P.M.**  
 **ERIC COULTER**

The warm April sun was golden, shining through the large plate glass windows, casting a glow around their bent heads so it was impossible to distinguish where Tris's shimmering hair stopped and Quinn's gilded began.

Tris quietly whispered something that caused her daughter to collapse forward, a helpless giggling heap, and Eric's eyes crinkled at the joyous sound.

His girls.

His beautiful girls that he watched from the outside.

But not for long. Fuck the distance.

Determination quickly set across his features as he stepped forward pulling the wooden door open in time to hear Tris's warning.

"Just ask me one more time and see what I tell you."

He saw Quinn squint at her mother as if testing her limits, seeing how far she could push before she finally snapped.

Jesus, she was his daughter.

And he needed to save her from punishment, his suggestion quickly tumbling forth before he had the chance to even consider the effects.

"Mr. Pink Unicorn!"

Eric felt his chest clench at the joy radiating from his daughter's tone. It was obvious she was excited to see him, whether she knew who he was or not.

Tris was a different story.

She hadn't expected him. Not yet at least.

She paled, her face stiffening, her movement's jerky as she lowered Quinn to the floor, one hand a restraining grasp on her shoulder, the other viciously nudging the unsuspecting cat on the counter, interrupting its feline dream, ignoring its hiss.

"Quinn, I need you take Sampson into the back for some milk." Tris murmured handing her daughter the angry cat.

"But momma…" Quinn stated to protest.

"Now, Anastasia Quinn."

"Uh-oh, two names," Eric said in stage whisper, echoing her words from days before. "You know that's never good. Do as she says."  
Quinn smiled up at him, those summer-filled eyes full of mischief.

"You won't leave, right? I won't take that long."

"I promise, I'll be here."

"Promise."

"On my honor as a gentlemen." Eric ignored Tris's snort.

With her pink lips curved, Quinn quickly dragged Sampson through the wooden beads, stumbling across his dangling tail with the promise of fresh milk, unknowingly leaving her parents behind in a tense silence.

Memories lay so strong between them that it was almost most tangible, pungent in its taste. Tris remembered the desperate movement of their once heated sweat-slicked flesh, the paralyzing need to be closer that would often overwhelm her senses. She remembered the darkness that at moments had not been that long, but others seemed to expand into years of silence.

She remembered his hatred.

"What are you doing here?" Tris hissed stalking around the counter, the enticing curve of her lips vanishing, her cheeks hollowed by the shadows.

"You knew I would come. Stop acting so surprised at that fact. I wanted to see my daughter."

"I still need time. She doesn't understand yet" Tris insisted, shifting her position. His gaze sharpened, then gleamed with satisfaction and with a chill she knew he knew he had realized he made her nervous. "You can't be here."

"Time?" Eric scoffed, his words hardening as he mocked her, staring at her for a long frozen moment. Irrational violence leapt through him, a dark need to scream for his pain, his wanting of a revenge for his life taken. "I've lost four years and you still need time? To what prepare Quinn or yourself?"

"What do you expect me to do, Eric, when you just waltz back into my life and starting giving commands as if you still hold a place of any value?" Tris demanded, stepping forward to jab him in the hardened chest with her forefinger. "Oh hello, nice to see you again, but by the way you ready for the fucking responsibility of being a father yet? Your daughter needs you?"

Eric gazed down into her furious face, his eyes darkening, becoming heavy-lidded at the enchanting play of dark lashes over luminous gold. He took hold of her soft hand, moving it away from his chest, her fingers folding against his calloused palm.

"Now I know you don't honestly believe that I was going to stand here and allow you to stab at me with that sharp little fingernail and blame me for every mistake, do you?" He leaned down to whisper in his ear. "You should know I enjoy your nails in my shoulders but I am not in the mood for that at this moment in time."

"This isn't a game, Eric. You don't win some kind of trophy for being the most valuable player here. This is my life and you are once again fucking it up." Unable to contain her emotion, Tris began to pound, push against his shoulders. "Why dammit? Why now? We were fine without you. How can she already love you?"

Unable to grasp her attacking hands with a quick movement he spun her round and folded his arms about her, crossing them under her breasts and her wrists manacled. Just that easily, she was subdued and surrounded, his muscled body hard and warm against her back.

Temptation rose, strong and immediate, urging her to relax her neck and let her head rest on his chest, let her body soften and mold to his and grow intoxicated on it.

"You are never complete without me. And you hate that." He promised darkly in her ear.

God, how he still loved her.

"You haven't changed." She struggled against his hands, twisting, knowing she could not think with him this close, wanting to deny his truth. "You're still a bastard and a bully."

"And you're still a fucking-know-it-all who can't shut up so I guess we are even then."

"You're hurting me." Somehow she knew the statement would have her desired effect.

She was right.

He loosened his grip and scowling when he saw the dark red marks that had formed. "I didn't mean too."

She drew back, massaging her wrists, shadows creeping into her eyes. "That's always your excuse."

"You have no fucking clue. You don't know what it did to me when I thought you had cheated." Tris opened her mouth to sneer a response, but he quickly interrupted her. "Inside, the scars. I just didn't want you to see it. I wanted to be invincible to you – to myself – to prove that I wouldn't need you." He drew in a deep breath, his fingers lightly trailing down the side of her face. "It was pride. Fucking, foolish pride and Christ knows I've paid for it."

"Poor baby," sarcasm coated her sugary tone as she could barely refrain from rolling her eyes. "Earning millions of dollars a year, your face splashed across every tabloid, dating so many beautiful women that even the media cannot keep track. Living your dream must be a high price."

"And I would pay triple it to have kept you, to kept Quinn." He sighed. "And to keep you from seeing I had been a coward."

"You still are. You are still hiding."

"I tried to forget you," he insisted softly, one hand curving around her hips, pressing the taunt flesh forward to cradle his. "I tried drinking, drugs. I tried women." The hand that tugged her hair rested on her neck and his thumb began to softly brush at the smooth skin there, sending a jolt of pleasure and lust through her body. "And it all failed miserably."

His words made her tremble.

Made her yearn.

Made her want to sink in to his body and forgive him for all he done.

"Let me go or I'm going to scream." She warned.

"Go ahead," Eric taunted, equally as soft and Tris started to close her eyes, seduced by his hypnotic words and sensual tone. "It wouldn't be the first time."

How could she still be weak?

Tris was unable protest as she brought her arms around his neck, twisting his fingers into his exposed hair. Eric stroked his tongue across her lower lip, hot and damp, nudging against hers. There were a hundreds of reasons she knew she should push him away.

But none mattered as she parted her lips, silently inviting him to taste her, to requisite himself with what he had denied himself.

His breath was hot, sweet, teasing against the soft pink, he wanted to plunder her, to mark her as his, to warn against any other man.

Just another inch and she would be his.

"What are you doing?" Quinn's voice shattered the cloud of intensity surrounding her parents. "Are you trying to kiss my momma?"

"More like bite her smartass little tongue." Eric murmured as Tris stumbled back from him, her gaze wide with shock, stammering, a blush creeping across her cheeks as Eric glared at her, obviously annoyed by the interruption.

His hair was tousled, his lips swollen and his expression was hard.

"Mommy?" Quinn's voice trembled, sensing the tension, the underlying currents, she shifted, one hand rubbing at the back of her neck. "What did you do?" her tone was accusing as she glared at her father, large tears welling in her eyes.

"Quinn, he did nothing wrong. But momma needs to tell you something." she swept her daughter protectively into her arms before letting out a soft sigh knowing that Eric was right. Quinn deserved to know who her father was. "You're daddy's right here."

"Where?"

Tris placed her world into Eric's arms as she had four years prior, the same trepidation coursing through her.

"Say hello to your daddy."

Quinn stared at Eric, stunned at her mother's revelation. This is what she had wanted, what she had dreamed for. She wasn't angry, no that was the gift the childhood innocence, to simply love and forgive.

The very notion humbled him.

"So you're not lost anymore?" the question was tiny. "Mommy said you got lost for awhile, that you had to find the magic before you could come home, that it would lead you."

"And it did, baby, your magic. I brought me to you, it brought me home." He buried his face in her neck, tears scalding her flesh. "I miss you, Pixie, fuck I missed you."

 **"But I cant go on**  
 **As long as I believe.**  
 **I cant let go, but I keep wondering"**


	8. BRAVE NEW GIRL

**Thanks so so SO much for all the reviews. Please note there is some as the same dialogue as in Leave This Town - very slight but still some cause it just works so well. Next chapter Eric makes his choice and things get a little heated.**

 **DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Divergent, the series, movies or anything such and I do not own the music or lyrics of Britney Spears. Characters will look like they do in the movie series.

" **She's gonna wish on stars and touch the sky  
Ah, you know what I mean  
She wants a good time** **,** **No need to rewind  
She needs to really really find what she wants  
She lands on both feet** **,  
** **Won't take a back seat**

 **There's a brave new girl  
And she's comin' out tonight"**

BRITNEY SPEARS, **BRAVE NEW GIRL**

 **PRIOR APARTMENT COMPLEX  
APRIL 2017 - 9:15 P.M.  
TRIS PRIOR **

"Tris Prior?"

"Yes, that's me." Tris shifted her grip on Quinn, settling her tiny frame on the curve of her left hip, arching a questioning brow at the red-haired woman dressed in navy and and the dark-skinned man standing behind her, both shifting uncomfortably at the sight of her daughter. "May I help you?"

The woman opened the flap of her black wallet, the gold plating shining, exhibiting a badge. "I'm Detective Williams and this in my partner, Detective Madison from L.A.P.D. We have a warrant for your arrest."

* * *

 **L.A.P.D.  
APRIL 2017 - 1:45 A.M.  
TRIS PRIOR **

She did not belong here.

She had been unable to control the fine tremors that had shook her entire body, the chill slithering through her skin.

This wasn't happened to her. This couldn't be happening.

In the beginning she had actually laughed, wanting to know who was behind the joke until Detective Williams had begun to read her her rights, gently but firmly removing a clinging Quinn from her arms, her scared screams and grasping fingers still echoing through her mind.

She had been arrested for the assault of Jeanine Matthews.

The police station had been buzzing with activity with people coming and going, paying no attention to her, but she had been taken through the process of being booked with a professionalism that chilled her.

She had been fingerprinted, her picture taken, being both questioned and advised for legal counsel. Detective Madison handed her a tissue to wipe the black ink from her fingertips, and she had been devoted to the task of cleaning the stain from her hands, too stunned to adjust to what had shifted in her reality.

Until she remembered the tearful, frantic and pained cries of her child. The precious moments where she had been unable to protect her from the intentions of Jeanine Matthews.

And with that, her fury began to grow.

There was an overwhelming sense of immense satisfaction she had felt in cracking her fist across Jeanine's cheek and nose, blood dripping from the once perfect surgically formed piece.

The cold-hearted bitch would pay that much she knew.

It was far from over.

"Prior," the bored tone of the surveying officer snapped her attention the entrance of her cell. "You have a visitor."

"I don't suppose you decided to pay my bail out of the goodness of your heart, no matter how small and hardened it may be." Tris taunted, standing, laughing lightly, impressed at how well Jeanine had manipulated the situation to her advantage.

Jeanine raised her perfectly sculpted eyebrows in a gesture of innocence. "I don't think that would be appropriate, considering I am the victim after all." She taunted, pushing her hair from her shoulders.

"I would applaud your performance," Tris stated. "I love tears. It was a very sweet touch, but you really don't want me to let go of these bars. Your extensions may suffer if I do."

"It wouldn't be so fun, if they weren't so gullible. A few tears, sign a few autographs and you are placed right where you belong behind bars."

"True, true, but that's a nice shade of purple," Tris said gesturing towards the bruise highlighting her nose, upper cheek and under her eyes. "I hope its broken. But I will tell you what you are going to do, Jeanine, and that is, you are going to drop the charges you filed against me and issue a public apology to me and my daughter."

"Silly girl, why would I do something like that? I'm getting everything I wanted. My agent has been flooded with calls since your attack." Jeanine smirked, her white teeth flashing. "This publicity is golden."

"I wonder what all those contacts would say when the discovered you hurt and bruised an innocent child, made them scream and cry and all her mother did was simply protect her from the monster. I wonder how well the victim role would suit you then." Tris tilted her head to the side, examining the model in front of her.

"You have no proof. Only your word against mine. And, of course, Eric will back anything I say. _He loves me_. He is marrying _me_."

"Are you really so naive as to think that I wouldn't protect my child, my store, my life? I may poor in your deduction but I am far from stupid." Tris questioned as Jeanine paled slightly at her confident tone. "That every single one of your actions from today was not documented in some sort of manner, all waiting to be released to the wonderful and judging world of social media."

"You have nothing." Jeanine insisted, fear forming at the base of her stomach. "No proof."

"Are you really so sure? What you need to do is sign the paper, flash him your implants, drop to your well-worn knees, I don't fucking care what you do, but those charges are going to be dropped."

Jeanine glared at her, attempting to see if she was lying, but Tris simply smiled back at her.

"The clock is ticking. Your signature or your reputation destroyed."

 **EARLIER THAT AFTEROON**

 **APRIL 2017 - 2:05 P.M.**

 **JEANINE MATTHEW**

Jeanine Matthews was a woman who was not known for her patience.

She was beautiful, adored by millions of male suitors all throughout the world, and expected to have her demands answered immediately, catering to her every whim.

And that included knowing the constant whereabouts of her fiancée.

Eric had been growing distant from her over the past month, but she had simply brushed those feelings to the side, believing he was concerned with the impending nuptials, his tour and his last few days of bachelorhood.

She knew he had disappeared the night of the engagement party, missing for several hours, but upon his return he had offered no explanation and retreated to his secluded house in the Hills alone.

They had not had sex in over two months.

If he had a whore on the side, she would find her and destroy the cheating slut.

Jeanine Matthews never lost.

* * *

 **EARLIER THAT AFTERNOON  
APRIL 2017 - 2:15 P.M.  
JEANINE MATTHEWS**

"Bitch."

"Four," Jeanine growled into her cellphone. "Where is he?"

"Who? Eric? Has he finally pulled his balls out your purse and reattached them? Good for him." Four taunted.

"Do I need to remind you what I am capable of." Her threat silenced a gloating Four. "And I'll ask nicely one more time. Where the fuck is he?"

"White Oleander."

And silently Four prayed that Eric wold not kill him.

* * *

 **EARLIER THAT AFTERNOON -** **WHITE OLEANDER  
APRIL 2017 - 2:42 P.M.  
JEANINE MATTHEWS**

Jeanine felt her throat constrict, her nails biting into the palms of her hands as she examined the scene before her through silted eyes, tracing over the delicate features, the honey blonde hair, the pouting lower lip.

She watched as Eric drew the woman closer, one arm protectively wrapped a little girl and the other caressing the curve of the woman's cheek with his fingertips in an intimate familiarity that caused Jeanine's spine to stiffen.

Who the fuck was this woman?

"Darling," impossibly graceful on five-inch heels, Jeanine glided across the entrance of White Oleander to embrace Eric as he jerked back from the woman, startled at the interruption. "How considerate of you to stop by and personally thank the florist, but it was extremely unnecessary. I could have handled it." She gave the woman's gauzy white dress a despairing glance before smoothing down her own perfectly styled hair. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"What for?" Eric's question was abrupt.

"You missed your appointment with Anderson this morning. He said that you had rescheduled your fitting. Again." Jeanine's voice sharpened at his dismissive tone.

"It was inconvenient today. He understood that. I had other plans."

"And what plans are those? To arrange flowers for our wedding without the bride to be?" She gave a pitying smile from her deeply colored lips. "It is rather quaint here in here, isn't it. Rather sweet. Do you think you could possibly handling the arrangements for our wedding, Miss ..."

"Prior." Tris filled in. "But I really think it would best..."

"Of course, you would be well-compensated." Jeanine cut in. "You did a marvelous last minute job for my engagement party. I can only image what I will receive given more time."

Tris felt as if she were going to be sick. There was no way that this was going to happen.

She simply refused to design the floral arrangement for her former lover's wedding to another woman.

There is no way in hell that was going to happen.

"Ms. Matthews, if you would so kind as to excuse us for just one moment." Tris requested, her nails sinking into Eric's arm. "Eric, I would just love to have a word with you. Quinn, behave yourself for five minutes."

Jeanine rolled her eyes as Tris yanked Eric towards the backroom, dialing the number for her hairstylist as Quinn stood, her tiny hands on her hips, examining her through a narrowed gaze.

She didn't like this woman. She was mean.

She had interrupted her moment, the time spent in her father's arms and her mother's presence.

She had ruined it.

A smile slowly side across her face as she looked through her white art tote resting next to the counter, pulling out her glue, a bright idea forming in her mind.

"This is not going to happen, Coulter." Tris hissed. "I refuse to play out the film of the demented Lifetime fantasy movie where I arrange flowers for your wedding. It's not happening."

"If you don't care about me as you have so adamantly claimed not too than this shouldn't be an issue." Eric felt smug in his logic. "Unless you're lying and of course we both know you would never do such a thing."

"It has never been an issue of not loving you." Tris softly stated as Eric placed his hands around her waist, drawing her close, the softness of her body reminding him of what he had carelessly thrown away as an arrogant teenager.

He would not be so foolish now.

It didn't matter to him that his fiancée was only steps away behind the curtain, if God almighty himself had declared him unable to touch, he still would have found a way.

He wanted her wanted her mouth. Hard, fast and deep. Willingly opening to his, wanting to accept the thrust of his tongue, hers sliding over his in response, her fingers tangling into his hair. One kiss so powerful that the only result could possibly be their bodies straining against one another in a pile of twisted sheet.

He still wanted her love.

And the only that could stop him was the scream of his child.

"What have you done! How dare you?" At the sound of Jeanine's furious voice , Tris jerked back from him, her eyes wide with shock. "You evil, vicious child!"

Quinn cried out.

Her voice laced with unknown terror as Jeanine's grip on her tightened, twisting, dragging the little girl closer to her, her beautiful features twisted in a hateful snarl.

Tris quickly rushed through the curtain at the sound of her child's sobs, stepping between Quinn and the distraught model, pushing her back before scooping her quivering frame into her arms.

Her heart pounded frantically as she pressed her lips to Quinn's sweaty forehead, her hands rubbing up and down her daughter's back in order to calm her panic.

Tris felt Eric's presence, his body trembling in suppressed rage as he gently turned her into his embrace, wrapping his arms around both of them, whispering calming words into Quinn's hair when she buried her head into his shoulder.

"What the hell do you think you are doing Eric?" Jeanine demanded, stunned by his actions.

"You okay, Pixie?" he asked softly, ignoring Jeanine, and she nodded rasping her head, the tears on her cheeks drying.

"Eric." His fiancée's voice was insistent.

"What the fuck are you thinking?" Eric snapped, angry vibrating through his tone, unknowingly unfreezing Tris from her shocked state. "She's a child! Not some adult that you feel like need to grind into the dirt. "

"Your _angel_ ," Jeanine stressed the word. "Destroyed my shoes."

Tris could barely contain her shock as she stared down at the dark yellow snake-print heels covered in bright green feathers, dripping in Elmer's glue.

It was definitely an art piece a la her daughter.

"Shoes? This is about shoes?" Beside her, Eric quickly coughed in order to cover his laughter.

"What do you have to say about this?" Jeanine demanded, her face flushing with anger as the three staring at her began helplessly to snicker.

"Tell you it's washable glue?" Tris said weakly, wincing at the loud shriek of indignation before looking down at her child clinging to her arms. "Quinn?"

"Yes momma?" Quinn tilted her head back, a slight smile on her face as she blinked innocently, hoping the tears still clung to her lashes.

"What did you think you were doing?"

"I didn't do anything." Quinn denied. "Well anything that bad."

"Really?" Tris plucked a green feather stuck to her cheek. "Then exactly how do you explain this?"

Quinn nibbled on her lower lip, knowing she was caught. "They're ugly." she declared, pointing to the shoes Tris knew cost several thousand dollars. "I just wanted them to be prettier."

"Jeanine, stop sputtering." Eric interrupted. "Quinn is right. Those shoes are fucking ugly. With or without the feathers. She did you a favor."

"Eric, you're not helping, not in the slightest. Could you please hold her from one moment and attempt to clean her face." Tris hissed as she passed him their daughter before turning and attempted to look sorry by ringing her hands. "Ms. Matthews, I do apologize. I'll pay for the cost of the shoes."

"These cannot be replaced," Jeanine hissed, dramatically sweeping off the damaged shoes, dangling the heels beneath the smaller woman's nose. "They were a gift from Louie himself. My engagement gift."

Her daughter deserved the largest hot fudge sundae she could devour, Tris decided.

"Perhaps we can dry clean them or set them on fire. Either works really." Eric offered.

"I can handle this, Eric. I really don't need a tarnished white knight.

"Ruined." Jeanine insisted before her eyes narrowed. "But I have a very easy solution. You can do the floral arrangements for my showers, my wedding ceremony and reception, any detail I need at your own expense." Jeanine smiled to herself and nodded. "Yes, I do believe that shall cover the cost and must almost close to equal."

"That's several thousands of dollars, I don't think so. I'll buy you some Goo Gone and we can chalk up to creativity of a four year old on some nasty shoes."

"I'll ruin you. One word, one shadow of a doubt cast from me and your pathetic business will cease to exist."

"And if you so much as take one glance towards my child or my business," Tris countered. "I will gladly dislocate that overpriced nose of yours."

"You don't want to do that." Jeanine warned.

"Or what?" Tris challenged. "You'll get me and my little girl too? Play the role of the wicked bitch?"

"Momma," Quinn interrupted as she gained the attention of her parents. "My arm hurts."

Eric pushed the sleeve to her sweater up, his breath sucking in from shock. Neither had expected what they saw. They had not realized the firm grip Jeanine had had.

How had they not seen it?

Quinn's upper arm was a dark purple, nail imprints deeply embedded into the tender flesh.

His daughter was bruised. She would be days because of a pair of shoes.

"You did this?" Tris demanded. "You fucking touched my child because of shoes."

"She needs discipline. A firm hand."

The sound of bone cracking echoed through the shop as Tris's clenched fist connected to the perfectly formed nose of Jeanine Matthews. Blood spurted from the pulsating wound down her face and Tris was ready for more, but Quinn's cry of surprise stopped her from moving forward.

Instead Tris snatched the shoes from Jeanine's hands, snapping the heels off before tossing the broken pieces in her face.

She felt the strong tug against her hair as Jeanine yanked her back but Tris's first once again connected to her mouth.

"My lawyer like that." Jeanine sneered, long white fingers wiping the bright red smear from her mouth.

"Not nearly as much as I did." Tris stated turning to Eric. "Get the fuck out of my store. And take your whore with you."

* * *

 **L.A.P.D.  
APRIL 2017 - 2:13A.M.  
TRIS PRIOR **

"Tick tock, tick tock."

Jeanine glared at her, attempting to see if she was lying, before shaking her head pleased with her deduction. "You're bluffing. I won't be dropping the charges."

"That's unfortunate for you then."

"Really? And what can you possibly do to me from in here? I made sure that judge set your bail to one you can't possibly afford."

"That is true." Tris agreed. "But I don't have to afford it. My one telephone call made sure of that."

"And who will pay for you then? Not your poor little business associate."

"Me."

The color slowly drained from Jeanine's face at the sound of the husky timbre behind her.

Eric.

 **"She's gonna step outside  
Uncover her eyes  
Who knew she could feel so alive"**


	9. TOXIC

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Divergent, the series, movies or anything such and I do not own the music or lyrics of Britney Spears. Characters will look like they do in the movie series.

" **You're dangerous  
I'm loving it**

 **Too high, Can't come down**  
 **Losing my head**  
 **Spinning round and round**  
 **Do you feel me now**

 **With a taste of your lips**  
 **I'm on a ride**  
 **You're toxic"**

BRITNEY SPEARS, **TOXIC**

 **L.A.P.D.  
APRIL 2017 - 2:15 A.M  
TRIS PRIOR**

She reminded him of a prism of colors, a waterfall that went from a startlingly white to a blush pink blending into a ruby red until her features were almost a violet tint in her fury.

Once he would found it breathtaking, beautiful even, wanting to know how he had caused such reaction from someone who claimed to be untouchable to the world.

But that moment had longed passed.

It had only taken the sight, the knowledge that maybe, just maybe, he had not completely lost the blonde-haired woman in front of him with her willingness to fight back regardless of the consequences.

The girl he had so foolishly taken for granted, the one unafraid to call his bullshit claims, to challenge him when no one else dared.

The minx who was currently separated from him due to iron black bars.

"What the fuck do you think your doing, Eric? Have you lost your mind?" Jeanine demanded, attempting to grab hold of his arm, but he simply shrugged off her advances, his eyes widening in concern as he gazed into Tris's cell. "Why would you post her bail?"

Despite his icy rage, Eric's stomach muscles contracted abruptly in reaction as he stepped closer to the petite blonde glaring at Jeanine with distain she had once reserved for him.

"You all right?" Eric asked ignoring Jeanine's question, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone that excluded his fiancée causing her breath to hiss between her white teeth in shock.

"I'm behind iron bars with bad food and service," Tris said dryly, her mouth quirking self-amusement before she leaned her forehead against the rails and let out a tired sigh. "Is that really an appropriate question? How's my baby?"

A level brow arched upwards over the pale blue ringed with a deep midnight and her senses narrowed, sharpening, until he was the only one in focus, the rest blurred and distant.

"She's fine," he assured her. "Eating ice cream and watching The Notebook with Auntie Chris."

Eric stepped closer, reaching out to cover her clenched fists, his fingers slid with excruciating slowness over hers, their roughness lightly stroking the slender bones, the sensitive hollows. His palms burned her against the cool iron, their fingers entwining, shivers almost like a chill tickling her spine.

His very touch offered his support.

"I was hoping for a little orange jumpsuit with a nametag," he teased, his gaze roved over her features and the lustrous mass of hair, which spilled over hers shoulders.

"Maybe if I get convicted," she bantered, immensely enjoying herself as Jeanine's mouth gapped open soundlessly, the mirror image of a fish struggling once placed out of water. "That little fantasy will by your reality."

Burning color flared on his high, chiseled cheekbones, and his tongue edged along his lower lip in an unconscious movement, as if he were already tasting her sweetness.

"Don't tease with promises you can't keep," Eric warned and a tiny smirk curved her full lips. She could still play his game.

"I learned it from you," she said softly, her lashes lowering, tempting him. "Don't you remember?"

Blood surged through Jeanine's veins in proportion to her mounting anger. She gave Eric a look of undiluted contempt, ignoring Tris's smug expression.

"Is she one of the little groupies you fuck?" Jeanine hissed. "Does she suck your dick when I refuse? Is she the reason you haven't touched me?"

Jeanine's face twisted when she realized that Eric hadn't even acknowledged that she was standing there. He was too focused on his former lover as her body brushed against his through the bars.

His involuntary reaction made her angrier.

"I remember everything," he whispered, his voice growing gritty with the memory of the nights Tris's body had clung to his, damp with need and her hot breath whimpering in his ear. "The way it felt to be inside you, to have you moan your love against my shoulder." Tris's eyes began to grow heavy. "And it fucking haunts me."

He was staring at her with such a savage male hunger, blood thickly surged through her veins, her legs trembled, her lips parted slightly as she sharply inhaled.

She had intended to tease him, to make Jeanine jealous, to make her realize she wasn't the only who had ever held his heart. However Eric had changed the joke, the scheme.

This was turning darker, deeper, drawing her into the storm she had once lived and denied herself since.

Something else stole into his awareness. Damn, he could smell her, a sweet, soft scent that had nothing to do with perfume and everything to do with female flesh.

He needed her.

"I never heard you complaining," she said softly, unable to stop the words from tumbling out.

"I never did." His breathing became ragged as he stared deeply into her eyes, searching past the shadows, looking for the love she had never been able to hide.

The last of his words were breathed against her lips, Tris arched upward in a fevered need, she felt the reflexive clutch on his hands on her hips as her arms slid upwards to twine around his neck. Her tongue lingered over his for a time, moving slowly and deeply, letting him fill her with his breath, his taste.

A low growl sounded in his throat as he took control, plundering her mouth, the rasp of his tongue and teeth, tasting the hot sweetness. Deliberately he rubbed back and forth against her, his erection nestling against her with the exquisite pleasure.

It had been many years since she had felt how enthralling, how potent, it was to feel hard male flesh against her. She was swamped by the sensations, her memories of the strength of his hands and subtle muskiness of his scent.

Jeanine screamed. An ear-piercing sound threatening to rupture the eardrums of anyone within range.

She fell forward, ripping Eric from Tris's grasp, his lips wet from the kiss, her hand smartly slapping his face, tiny fists beat against his chest as he stumbled back.

"She assaulted me!" Jeanine screeched wildly. "She's a fucking whore! How dare you defend her? Touch her!"

"The way I seem to remember it," Eric hissed. "You touched a child, bruised them, made them cry. What kind of monster does that make you?"

"One you love," Jeanine pointed out, holding up her left hand, wiggling her fingers as the large diamond mocked him, winking. "The one you plan to marry."

"And that little fantasy of yours is over." Eric declared. "I would never marry the likes of you, much less touch you again."

"For her?" she shrilly demanded. "You'll give all of this up for a shop girl?" her tone was sick in disbelief as she swept a hand down her toned body.

"I'd give anything for Triss." His statement was simple.

"I'm sure he'll let you keep the ring as a consolation prize," Tris chimed until able to contain her gleeful amusement at Jeanine's form swaying in shock of what was she deserved.

"By all means do," Eric insisted. "It will be one less reminder of poor judgment for me."

"You'll regret this," Jeanine threatened, her voice high with promise. "You'll be fucking sorry. I'll see to it."

"I very much doubt that I ever will."

* * *

 **ERIC COULTER'S HOME  
APRIL 2017 - 4:25 A.M  
TRIS PRIOR**

"Look Will, I know it's four in the morning and I've pulled you away from your latest one night slut, but this is the reason I fucking pay you as much as I do so you afford these women. As my attorney I need you to do your job. Starting now." Eric's voice was low as he hissed into the cell phone turning to examine a quiet Tris.

She had insisted that they come to his place once she was released, that she couldn't go home to her daughter reeking of decay and corruption, her fingers still painted black.

She knew that her daughter was safe for the moment and that was all she truly needed.

That and a scalding hot shower to wash her clean of all the false accusations Jeanine Matthews had set before her.

She was standing in front of the window when Eric came into the kitchen a few moments later wearing only a pair of faded jeans. He stopped, his entire body clenching at the sight of her.

God she was breathtaking, with her mane of hair loose and tousled, wearing only his shirt after her shower. She was sipping coffee and looking out through the window, lost in her thoughts, her expression calm and remote.

He went to her, sliding one arms around her as he took the cup and lifted it to his own lips imaging he could still taste her on the rim.

"Why did you call me? Was it for Jeanine's benefit?" Eric asked, unable to stop the words. "The words, the kiss, the joy in the broken in engagement?"

"No, it wasn't. At first maybe but that's now how it ended." she whispered. "We don't have the money that would have been needed. I didn't, Christina didn't. I needed you, just you. Somehow I knew you could make it all better. No matter how fucked up the reasoning may be."

She felt the tension at her words. She knew what they would bring.

And for once she welcomed it.

"You and me," Eric growled, watching as he skimmed his hands under the front of the shirt, roaming across the warm, smooth skin of her stomach. "It's always going to be there." He kissed her neck softly, nipping at the sensitive tendons, sinking in the firm flesh.

"I didn't come here for this," she whimpered her denial as he scooped her against his chest carrying her towards the softest surface, the large couch in his living room.

"Me either."

He saw the struggle of denial in her eyes and battered it with a greedy kiss; she wouldn't hold back from him, he wouldn't permit it.

He'd dreamed of this countless times in various places in multiple positions. He would take his time; cherish her in the manner she deserved.

This would be different though. A harsh, greedy meeting on the flesh far more potent than any fantasy. The taste of her was rioting his senses knowing that he would never be able to deny himself again.

Tris didn't struggle against him, she couldn't bear to. He was giving her back everything he had taken and more.

This would only complicate their situation. She was still hurt, there were so many unanswered questions, so many times she needed to scream at him.

But for this moment, all she needed was him.

She needed this.

His lips were soft, his mouth hot as he slanted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. She whimpered a sound of delight, sucking at it, curling her own upwards and he shuddered, lifting her against his thick erection.

"Jesus," he groaned jerking the shirt over and roughly shoving her panties down her thighs.

Her breasts were bare, heavy and full, as his wet mouth seared her nipple and she moaned. The nipple puckered against his tongue as he harshly suckled, moving from one to the other, his cheeks flexing with his force until he pushed her breasts together, licking across both at once, unable to have his fill.

"Now," she moaned arching , spreading her thighs, her fingers deep in his hair, clenching it between her fingers, yanking hard as she ground her wet core against his lower stomach. Eric began jerking frenziedly at his zipper and with a grunt freed his erection, guiding the broad head of his penis over her slick flesh.

Her muscles eagerly clamped down on the intruding flesh and his powerful body taunted, strained with the difficulty of his penetration.

She had no one else since him.

"I won't hurt you," he whispered. "You know how to handle it."

And she did.

He began rocking his hips back and forth, coaxing her taunt muscles to relax allowing him to slide deeper in the wet warmth.

She felt painfully stretched, almost beyond pleasure, but this is what she wanted and her hips twisted against his, breaking his fragile control.

His hips hammered and recoiled and hammered again, his shaft reaching deep inside her womb. She stared up at him, glassy-eyed; his face was so hard and intent that he looked brutal. His eyes narrowed and molten, the color a deep, hot blue, sweat ran down his face and matted his hair.

One hand grasped her breast, squeezing, pulling the nipple to his mouth and he clamped down once again, sucking in time to his thrusts. Tris screamed, her mouth finding his neck, biting into the sensitive tendons, her nails dragging down his back, piercing his skin.

The edges of reality blurred and swirled. She was burning, her flesh damp in the cool room. Her body shuddered under the impact of his thrusts. The muscles in her entire lower body tightened and clamped down, holding him, shaping themselves around him, as her juices coated the upper part of his thighs.

A rough, deep growl sounded in his throat as he rode her hard, thrusting heavily as he imprinted his physical power on her flesh, his mouth attacking her, sucking at the sensitive flesh of her neck and breasts. Their bodies slickly slapping together.

He pushed her further with each hard recoil of his hips until she was panting and desperate, sobbing as she arched tightly into him.

He shuddered; gasping, convulsing and she felt the warm wash of his seep deep inside her.

No one else's. Ever. His.

* * *

 **ERIC COULTER'S HOME  
APRIL 2017 - 9:41 A.M  
ERIC COULTER**

Tris's breath tickled his chest as she slept, her leg curled around his tightened unconsciously as she scooted closer to his warmth. The satin sheets were draped across her carelessly and he reached down to fit them around her lax frame. Her swollen lips pressed against his skin as she nuzzled his chest and he took a deep breath, inhaling her in, his senses attune her every movement and his thoughts finally settled. He smoothed his hand down her bare back, catching and twirling her long strands in his fingers.

Tris's eyes sleepily blinked open as she heard his cell phone ring and he curse of annoyance under his breath as he reached for it, his form tightening with the caller's voice.

She crawled up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, stroking his stomach in an attempt to calm him.

He hung up with phone with a weary sigh, his tense body relaxing before his tilted his head back to face her.

"Jeanine's issuing a statement in a press conference at noon," Eric stated a sly smile turning the corner of his lips. "About the assault and announcing the date of our apparent wedding."

"I believe our presence will be uninvited." Tris said, drawing the sheets tighter to her body.

"Indeed it will."

"Perfect. An appearance is definitely in order."

" **With a taste of your poison paradise  
I'm addicted to you  
Don't you know that you are toxic"**


	10. STRONGER

Thank you for all your reviews! I appreciate it so much! Also to who asked I made Jeanine 24 years old…a few years older than Eric.

 **DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Divergent, the series, movies or anything such and I do not own the music or lyrics of Britney Spears. Characters will look like they do in the movie series.

" **Hush.. just stop  
There's nothing you can do or say (baby)  
I've had enough"**

BRITNEY SPEARS, STRONGER

 **LOS ANGELOUS COURT HOUSE  
APRIL 2017 - 1:30 P.M.  
JEANINE MATTHEWS**

The early afternoon warm, the light winds brisk, the strength of the sun reflecting in blinding golden rays across the cement stairs of the Los Angeles County Court House.

She stepped forward, her heels clicking against the pavement, clad in a light blue designer sundress, her pale hair smoothed back into an elegant, low-rising bun, round sunglasses resting against the stark white bandage covering her nose, her features visibly strained from the tension of the past twenty-four hours. She reached out, adjusting her cellphone to make sure that she was live-streaming on each and everyone of her social media accounts.

Her attorney, Max, hovered at her elbow as a slight smile spread across her red lips, silently hoping she looked personally defeated to the cluster of reporters and tabloid photographers gathered in front of her, pressing forward eager for her answers as to the controversy.

Each media outlet shouted their questions mingling together into a mass confusion of mixed mumbles and snide remarks, but Jeanine's blood hummed with anticipation and she could barely contain her snort of gleeful victory.

If Tris Prior thought she could threaten her, steal her fiancée, and break her designer heels, and not believe that there would not be hell to pay than she was sadly mistaken.

She would suffer, it was as simple as that, and it would begin this afternoon with the destruction of her reputation and beloved floral shop.

"Thank you," Jeanine said raising a hand to quiet the questions, drawing in a deep breath, her voice slightly breaking over the words. "Thank you all so much for coming. As you aware, yesterday afternoon I was viciously attacked by the owner of a local establishment known as White Oleander." She drew down her oversized black sunglasses, dramatically pausing allowing the effect of the purple disfiguration to be seen, silently pleased at the uttered gasps that could be heard. "As you can see, she accomplished her goal brilliantly, breaking my nose and fracturing several small sections of my cheek. In light of my assault, the outpouring of love and encouragement has been overwhelming and very heartfelt and for that I am so grateful."

"Miss Matthews, what was the cause of such an attack?" a reporter called out and Jeanine could barely suppress a smile of satisfied delight.

"I stopped by to personally express my gratitude towards Tris Prior for the exceptional job she produced for my engagement party, but she very agitated and unreasonable after I informed her that her services were no longer required. When I attempted to leave she threatened and assaulted me." A tear slipped down her pale cheek. "She is a monster who attacked my very livelihood, jealous of my success on the runaway and in the magazines."

"You pressed charges. How do you feel about the fact she was already released?"

"I could not sleep last night with such knowledge. I was haunted by nightmares knowing that she is free and could be roaming the streets looking for me."

"Is it true though," the woman pressed on, grilling her question. "That your fiancée posted her bail?"

Jeanine felt her smile falter slightly before she tightly clenched her teeth. "No, whoever started such a rumor only with the intention to be cruel. He wanted to be by my side today, showing his support, but there was a prior commitment that he could not ignore."

"What was his reaction to the attack?"

"He was horrified," she lied. "Rightfully so, concerned for me, my well-being against this fan's malicious aggression."

"If you see Tris Prior today, what would you say to her?" another inquired, a silence falling across the media frenzy as the awaited her response.

"I would want Tris to know," Jeanine paused, her breath hitching dramatically, tears trickling from her glossy eyes. "That I forgive you."

"Oh for fuck's sake," an annoyed voice, clear and precise, echoed above the reporters which whipped around searching for who had made such a bold, brisk statement. "I don't want your forgiveness. It would be worthless."

Jeanine felt as if time was moving in a delicate slow motion as the gathered slowly parted and Tris Prior stepped forward, body relaxed.

A silken mass of honey blonde tumbled down her thin shoulders in straightened strands, the white soft cotton tunic dress unbuttoned through the bodice to reveal a red lace trimmed tank top. The skirt stopped about her knee, the loose cropped sleeves and ribbon waist accented the scalloped trim and thick frill hem. She nervously wrapped the gold angel wing pendant hanging from the long chain around her finger, the 3 bangles with hammered finish clicking together.

She looked beautiful, refreshed and innocent nestling trustingly in Eric's arms, but that was not what caused her breathe to hiss between clenched teeth but rather the sight on her ex-fiancée's hand resting on her lower body, his grip possessive as it curved her hip.

It was the touch of a lover.

"Keep your distance," Jeanine warned, holding up a finger as if to threaten her, her voice choking. "I have a restraining order against you. I could have you arrested if you come any closer."

"Actually you see the thing is, you don't have a restraining order." Tris could feel a smile curve her full lips, her expression patiently amused. "It seems that your attorney was so distracted this morning with arranging this press conference and soothing your ruffled feathers for a larger dressing room that he forgot the file the papers with the County Clerk."

Jeanine gasped, her eyes narrowing as she turned to Max who gave her a strained smiled, sheepishly confirming Tris's statement.

"But, however, I did not forget," Tris said as a tall, dark-skinned man causally dressed in a gray business suit stepped forward, handing the notarized documentation along with his contact information to Max before Jeanine snatched them from his grasp. "Technically I could have you arrested for being within two hundred feet on me."

Max quickly scanned the restraining order Zeke had produced before reaching out to place a warning hand on his client's elbow.

"Jeanine, I suggest you end the press conference while I try to sort out the details."

"This is foolish! She attacked me!" Jeanine cried out. "I am being made out to look as villain…"

"That's because you, Jeanine, are the villain of this fairytale," Tris taunted, stepping forward until she was almost even with the blonde. "This is your last chance, I highly recommend that you start telling the truth."

"I have." Jeanine's chin rose with her statement and Tris gave an accepting nod before turning her attention to the reporters shouting questions.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment."

"Tris." Eric voice held a slight warning as he skimmed the back of his hand over her cheek then signed.

The scent of her, silky and female and subtle, was enough to drive him mad. Each quiet breath drawn through her full parted lips was the kind of invitation he would give anything to receive.

And he would. He would give her the freedom, her say.

"Is this still live streaming? Hopefully so. As many of you know by now my name is Tris Prior and I do own White Oleander." Tris' voice sounded smooth, a vintage wine husk. "The simple fact is, yes I did indeed break Jeanine's nose and I felt an immense amount of pleasure in such as I am sure many would." The snickered murmurs of the reporters further confirmed her statement.

Eric straightened, standing behind her lending her his strength even as she stood alone against those who had only moments before judged her.

"You see Miss Matthews forgot one important element to her story," Tris paused, realizing that she had captured the fascination of the media. "She forgot to mention the fact the she was the one who bruised my four year old daughter, cut her arm from her nails, all because she defaced an ugly pair of yellow snakeskin heels for an art project. Her reasoning behind such cruelty to a child was that the shoes were only one of kind and ignored my suggestions of how to handle to problem. Instead she insisted my shop would basically finance any expenses that she wished to pay for her floral arrangements for her parties. I refused and then I broke her nose when my daughter's damaged arm was revealed to me. Call it a motherly insistent."

"That's a lie! A horrible lie! You have no proof! It's obvious what you temper can to do me much less a child"

"It is a valid question, is it not?" Tris murmured, pulling out her cellphone, uploading the App that ran her security system at the shop and the reporters pressed forward to see it. They watched as the video began to stream, the events unfolding of yesterday for a national audience to see. Everything from Eric's stalking Tris around the shop to him holding his daughter, embracing Tris to Jeanine's wrenching her daughter to the feet and to the side, her fingernails digging into her tender flesh and as she screamed into Quinn's face in her fury.

Tris's nails curled into her palms barely resisting the urge to connect to Jeanine's upper jaw once again. The audience was silent as the screen went black.

"I was simply protecting my own." Tris stated as Eric's hands slid around her waist, his fingers interlacing with her own allowing her to rest against his strength at the sight on his collapsing ex-fiancée. "I know what happened, what occurs by the wonderful thing known as security cameras."

"You altered the feed! I would never do this!" Jeanine accused unable to believe her actions had been caught on tape, that to the world she had become the abuser.

Her career would be over.

"I altered it? Is that really the best you can come up with?" Tris snapped. "I mean after the stories you've spun to the media its a little disappointing."

Jeanine let out an inhuman, piercing scream as she launched forward, her finger curling around Tris's hair as she drew the smaller girl beneath her, her fingers clawing, yanking attempting to get at any bare skin exposed. Tris made an explosive sound of rage twisting to the side, her legs holding down Jeanine's as she reached back and slapped her across the face. Their bodies rolled against the cement stairs, collapsing in front of the court house, a twisted, hissing mass.

Eric wrapped his arms around Tris, dragging her back, a bright blonde extension clenched in her hand and Max held onto Jeanine who smeared the stain of blood from her mouth.

"You ruined everything!" Jeanine sobbed, struggling against her attorney as he dragged her towards the entrance of her waiting limousine. "You whore! Cunt stealing whore!"

"You did that all of your own," Tris responded quickly to the demented shrieks. "All on your own."

She then lowered her eyes, wincing at the invaders cameras wanting to capture each word and scene.

And so that to had began.

"You okay?" Eric trailed a finger down the side of her face, gently tracing her lower lip.

"I want our daughter," Tris's voice quivered slightly. "I want to hold my baby girl."

And he would take her there, because there was nothing he could deny her, nothing he wouldn't give to simply be with her.

* * *

 **HILTON SUITE PENTHOUSE  
APRIL 2017 - 8:50 P.M.  
JEANINE MATTHEWS**

She had been shaking as she stumbled into her suite, frenziedly searching through her favorite hiding areas of her drawers and cosmetics containers, desperately desiring an ounce of the white powder twisted into a pouch beckoning her.

But she could find nothing.

How dare they? How could they have the fucking nerve to show the world that footage? Did the cunt and cheating bastard have no respect, no thought of how they had destroyed her life in a moment?

Max had insisted she seek new legal representation once they had been seated inside of the black limousine, calmly suggesting the name a cutthroat attorney who give more regard to a grown woman bruising a child much less to have the action captured on film would better suit her needs.

Fuck Max, fuck his advice. She didn't him or it.

All she had needed was a quick fix and a simple call to her dealer had provided the satisfaction she had denied herself for months after almost being discovered by Eric one evening.

Jeanine leaned forward, balancing on her left arm, eagerly focusing on the cocaine, the tip of the straw quickly tracing across the tables surface, sniffing the substance as Peter shoved into her from behind her, hurting her in his roughness, but it didn't matter to her.

The rush spread through her veins, the glow, causing her to rock against him, moaning her demands.

"Fucking find out who the whore? Eric must have meant something to her, to her daughter." Peter let out a grunt of acceptance wanting nothing more than the skinny slut to shut her mouth and enjoy the candy he had provided her. "I'm going to fucking destroy him."

And she would.

That she vowed.

" **You might think that I can't take it  
But your wrong"**


End file.
